Generally, those seated deepest inside are the high officials and nobles, but for their safety, they are always arranged slightly further away, meaning there is a distance of several meters between the fighting ring and the audience seats, which serves as a safety zone.

"Next up, a bout between the Demon Heaven Wolf from the Northwest and the Jungle Tiger from Guangxi."

There was an announcer in the ring, whose voice was remarkably loud. Zhou Huan felt the announcer’s voice carried significant authority; after all, this was the capital—a place where even dragons had to coil and tigers had to lie low.

"Master, look at those two on the stage. Their skills are truly formidable. I think we really need to watch closely, or we might suffer a loss," Shi Bingyuan whispered into Zhou Huan's ear.

Zhou Huan nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the two combatants grappling in the ring.

With a sharp cry, the so-called Northwest Wolf was struck so hard his scalp felt lifted, and blood immediately spurted out. A wave of chaotic boos rose from the crowd as the Jungle Tiger gloated triumphantly in the ring.

"Who else dares to step up next? Hah! Let me show you the jaws of the Jungle Tiger!" The man’s hand was dripping crimson, the blood freshly spilled from the one who had just died.

Zhou Huan shook his head. "What a hassle. A death in the ring is bad luck. Bingyuan, go handle it!" Hearing this, Shi Bingyuan shouldered his satchel, darted onto the stage in a few steps, helped carry the deceased off the platform, and then proceeded to a large open area behind the venue where he burned paper talismans while chanting a soul-sending mantra to dispatch the man who had died in the martial contest.

Back in the ring, the Jungle Tiger engaged another challenger, a wrestling expert who managed to throw the Tiger down in just a few moves, sending him off the stage. As the Tiger tried to scramble back up, several soldiers blocked him, forcing him to leave crestfallen.

This wrestler proved surprisingly durable, winning five consecutive rounds by simply throwing his challengers off the platform. This was certainly better, as at least no one was dying.

As Zhou Huan watched, a man approached from somewhere and, upon reaching Zhou Huan, said, "Master Zhou Huan, I am the steward of the He Residence. My master has a message for you!"

Zhou Huan rose instantly. "Ah, Steward, my respects. What instructions does Lord He have for me?"

"My Lord says he has bet on you to win. He wagered two million taels of silver against Scholar Ji's prized tobacco pipe. If you lose, you will be the one responsible for paying that two million taels!" Zhou Huan couldn't help but smile wryly; it truly was a case of the dog growing arrogant because of its master's power.

"Please convey to Lord He that he will certainly witness my performance when he attends the Emperor’s viewing," Zhou Huan replied. He wasn't entirely confident, as he disliked these types of brawls, but he offered the assurance to put the man’s mind at ease.

The steward beamed. "That is excellent news! Master Zhou, please be careful. The upcoming fighters are all experts, likely many you haven't encountered. Good luck!"

Zhou Huan smiled faintly. "It doesn't matter. No matter how difficult the task, one must face it head-on."

"Very good, truly very good! I will report back to my master immediately. When you step onto the stage, we will certainly be here to cheer you on!" Having said that, the steward of the He Residence turned and departed.

Zhou Huan and Shi Bingyuan continued to watch from below. As twilight deepened, Shi Bingyuan still hadn't been called up. By this time, the wrestler on the stage had completed his tenth match; his stamina must be waning. If he didn't lose now, he would surely exhaust himself to death.

Thus, the Martial Arts Assembly organizing committee made a special ruling: anyone achieving ten consecutive victories could step down to rest and resume the next day. This wrestler had reached his tenth bout when a new contender suddenly leaped onto the stage from below. This man appeared short but moved with remarkable agility. Even before mounting the platform, one could hear him discussing the wrestler's weak points.

As soon as he entered the ring, this newcomer aggressively attacked. After fewer than ten exchanges, the wrestler sent him soaring into the air again. But the challenger's flexibility was indeed extraordinary; as he fell, he touched the ground beneath the stage with the tips of his feet and immediately sprang back up onto the platform.

"Roar!" A roar of admiration erupted from the crowd, awed by the man's movement technique.

Zhou Huan watched with keen interest, murmuring, "He has truly met his nemesis. Wrestlers fear this type. Most opponents are helpless against a wrestler, but someone relying on evasion and soft techniques is their bane."

"Master, shouldn't we prepare to go on now?" Shi Bingyuan was eager, flexing his fists at the ringside.

Zhou Huan held him back. "No rush. It looks like this Assembly will run all night. There are big changes this year. We'll go up after dark. Bingyuan, can you manage ten matches?"

"Master, don't worry. Ten matches will be no problem. They seemed too easy."

"Good. Keep watching then!"

The moon climbed high above the willows; night fighting was now part of the masters' challenge. The assembly, originally planned for the entire day, had unexpectedly swelled in attendance; the number of invitations somehow exceeded expectations by over fifty percent, forcing the schedule to extend into the night.

Suddenly, someone shouted from the stage, "Flying Mouse wins!" Below, the Wrestling King was drenched in sweat, his sense of defeat and frustration simply indescribable. He had won nine matches, only to be pinned in the final one.

"That Flying Mouse is certainly quick. Bingyuan, warm up. See how he fares in the next bout. It’s dark now; time for us to go on," Zhou Huan said. Shi Bingyuan immediately began circulating the zhenqi within his body. Before long, two or three more fighters were swept off the stage.

"Bingyuan, go!" Zhou Huan commanded. Shi Bingyuan pushed off with his feet, mounting the platform with striking lightness.

At that moment, someone in the audience murmured low, "Hey, this fellow looks out of the ordinary. His footwork is different from the last few."

Shi Bingyuan stood calmly in the ring without uttering a word, his eyes meeting the gaze of the so-called Flying Mouse opposite him with total composure.

The Flying Mouse was somewhat formal. Seeing Shi Bingyuan enter, he asked, "Who comes opposite? State your name and your sect!"

"I have no sect and no title. If you wish to compete with me, I will accompany you. If not, you may step down yourself!" Shi Bingyuan provoked him slightly, but the challenger only laughed heartily.

"I say, friend, you are rather amusing. Haven't you seen how the previous few left? Do you think you have the skill to force me off the stage?"

"I don't know. We’ll only know after the contest!" As Shi Bingyuan finished speaking, his body began to emit a slow, reddish glow, as if he were red-hot iron, making his entire form seem to be alight. This was the manifestation of the heat cultivation technique he and Zhou Huan had practiced on the mountain.

The crowd had never witnessed such a sight; they were utterly stunned, shouting their approval.

"We’ve seen many matches, but this is the first time I’ve seen someone like this. He must truly be a master!" the spectators buzzed, though the Flying Mouse on stage remained unconcerned.

He let out a long breath. "It looks impressive, but I wonder if your trick is actually useful!" The Flying Mouse said this, but he felt a distinct sense of apprehension. He had never seen cultivation techniques that allowed zhenqi to be projected externally like this.

"Come on. You’ve fought several rounds already. I’ll let you have three free moves to balance things out. After those three, you had better watch out!" Shi Bingyuan stated. Immediately, the Flying Mouse sprang off the ground, unleashing a move resembling a deadly scissor kick, aiming directly at Shi Bingyuan.

Shi Bingyuan remained unhurried, shifting his posture slightly to evade it.

"One move!"

Next, the Flying Mouse hammered an elbow toward Shi Bingyuan, who dodged again with another subtle shift.

"Two moves!"

"Good heavens, you’re quite nimble! Then let me show you what speed is!" The Flying Mouse did not use his ultimate move as his third attempt, likely saving it for a decisive moment. If he used it well, he would win; if it failed, he might not get another chance.

This Flying Mouse also possessed a technique related to the 'Nether Illusion Black Hole.' As his hands and feet moved rapidly, motes of light floated seemingly from nowhere. Zhou Huan saw clearly that these were the souls of deceased rodents and felines.

"Hahaha! Good lad, let me show you what your granddad is made of!" Shi Bingyuan burst out laughing when he saw this manifestation. This was truly entertaining; the Flying Mouse was practically charging straight into his trap.

As the animal souls summoned by the Flying Mouse rushed toward Shi Bingyuan, he remained calm and still. He ignited a talisman, drew a circle in his hand, and chanted a brief incantation.

All the animal souls that reached Shi Bingyuan's vicinity collapsed onto the ground with a snap and vanished into black smoke.

Shi Bingyuan said calmly, "The third move is done. Alright, brother, you can step down now!"

Turning his attention back, Shi Bingyuan launched a kick aimed at the Flying Mouse’s waist. The speed of this kick was extraordinary. The Flying Mouse hadn't even managed to recall the summoned spirits when Shi Bingyuan’s foot connected, sending him flying violently off the stage. This time, he had no chance to recover, crashing heavily onto the floor below. Looking up at Shi Bingyuan with a pained expression, he murmured faintly, "A true master. This Martial Arts Assembly is going to be worth watching. I concede!"

Shi Bingyuan had won. He bowed three times to the audience below, then sat cross-legged on the stage, circulating his qi to restore balance. After a long wait, no one else ascended the stage to challenge him. The arena fell silent.