5 What? (1/2)

Su Min held a number plate, saying.

”93?”

He guessed that every other person in this square had the same number plate he had. The gate gave him one of these, although they tried to discourage him from attending due to his abnormal body size...

Whilst he was looking at the number plate, a group consisting of 2 females and 3 males walked up to him with sneers. One of the girls giggled as the leader of the pack walked towards Su Min and coughed when he saw the book at his waist.

”Pfft! Nice book. Hey, do you think you can fight with words? You see, although it may not look painful, getting punched fucking hurts.”

The mocking tone in his voice was apparent as he sneered at Su Min with his emphasised expression. Su Min remained emotionless, ignoring them.

He disregarded the gaze of the man and walked towards the numerous chairs placed around the stadium. He picked an indistinct spot and just sat down.

'I don't really know how to fight, but this is the only scheduled disciple tournament this year...'

*THUD*

He held the book with a firm grip when an echoing clash struck behind the stadium. It evoked a dull silence as all the participants looked up with emotions trailing from excited fervour to silent trepidation.

A man appeared behind the stadium, walking towards a podium just in front of him. The podium was positioned at the back of the stadium and was centred.

The man wore simple white robes and held a crooked cane. His face was wrinkled in the folds, conveying his old age. He rocked as he took step after step onto the small podium that allowed him to gaze down on everyone.

”Ehum. I, Jiang Shun, commence the forty-fifth honours tournament in Sector D2!”

A reverberating bang struck once again behind the old man as everyone seemed to become filled with fighting spirit. The old man's expression remained the same as he hooked his back and sat down.

”For those who don't know the rules, they're simple. Each and every one of you will fight someone at random, and those who win will fight each other, and the losers will fight each other as well until both sides get a top 10. Those 20 will then fight to make the final top 10! Now, one second please.”

The workers around seemed to be about to place markers on the stadium when the old man unexpectedly shifted his gaze to the centre of it. He slowly lifted his stick and struck down, causing a dull thud that smashed at the podium he sat on.

The thud seemed ear-splitting, although the podium he sat on didn't show any signs of collapsing. Yet, as this thud spread out from him it seemed to materialise and thrash at the end of the stadium the old man sat behind. A sprawling crack crackled through the solid concrete at the pace of a car, causing a woosh of wind to blow at everyone's fluttering clothes.

This crack seemed to be alive as it thrashed to the other end of the stadium and pushed both segments apart with an unreal force. The crushing sounds of mud and cement whistled in the ears of everyone, causing those at the front to unconsciously step back.

The workers gulped as they looked at the markers they were about to place. It was safe to say that they were going to separate the stadium, but the old man had, for some reason, split it in half instead...

The old man slumped himself into the chair as he ignored the commotion and looked at the sky. He looked for a while until he sighed and glanced once again at everyone.

”Now that the stadium has been separated into two, one is for the losers and the other for the winners. The first round is, of course, the random selection! Each of you will fight once, and whether or not you are unlucky has nothing to do with me.”

He seemed to be finished as he closed his eyes to what most presume was to sleep, although no one dared underestimate that weak figure of his.

”Martial Artist's can do that?!”

”Come on, what can't they do? They are the reason we are even alive today after all.”

”Do they always separate the stadiums like that? Isn't that... Like expensive?”

Excited and uneasy conversations spread out everywhere as some of the staff looked at the gaping crack with wryly smiles, but they didn't dare say anything and could only curse in their heads.

'Hm?'

Su Min didn't feel an ounce of shock at the display, as only he has seen a whole world distort and rumble before getting himself thrashed into a hut, which is the difference of the heavens and earth compared to sundered a small stage like that.

It was instead due to the number plate in his hand, which was glowing a warm heat for no apparent reason. He looked up and saw that nobody else near him had that happen to their number plates.

It was only until the old man grunted and spoke in an annoyed tone, still with his closed eyes, that he understood.