Chapter 8: Xu Xiaoshou, Hold On

Above the void, Xiao Qixiu, who had been steadily observing Platform 12, smiled faintly.

This year's outer court disciples were of surprisingly high quality—this was the third Xiantian he had spotted.

And it was a particularly elusive physical Xiantian, something truly rare!

Had it not been for the faint Xiantian energy appearing twice in a row, he might have been fooled by this young man named Xu Xiaoshou.

This kid really had a... well, an eccentric talent.

On the platform,

The crowd had been riled up by Xu Xiaoshou's words, losing all reason.

A mere Lianling Wujing practitioner spouting such arrogance—who did he think he was? Even if his physical body was incredibly tough, could he possibly be a physical Xiantian?

"I can't take it anymore—this guy's just asking for a beating!"

"Looks like one person won't cut it. Let's all team up and throw this weakling off the platform!"

"Brothers, charge!"

Some forty or fifty people lunged forward at once—some with fists raised, others wielding knives, and a few lurking in the shadows, ready to play dirty or land sneaky blows...

Facing the onrushing killing intent, Xu Xiaoshou felt his liver quiver. The sight of those forty or fifty hot, menacing faces was downright terrifying.

But he charged ahead anyway, roaring to bolster his courage: "If you're a man, use your fists! You with the knife—put it down if you've got the guts!"

Bang! Bang!

The scene exploded into chaos in an instant, as Xu Xiaoshou was swallowed up by the wave of attackers. In the audience seats, Su Qianqian watched tensely, her slender hands gripping Rao Yinyin's jade-like leg so tightly that the already short red skirt hiked up.

"What courage!" Rao Yinyin gazed at the brawl, chuckling playfully.

"Under attack, passive value +14."

"Under attack, passive value +16."

"..."

The information panel refreshed rapidly in his mind. As soon as Xu Xiaoshou plunged into the crowd, he used his body to absorb countless punches, landing a direct fist on the knife-wielder to knock him down and kick him off the platform.

No knives allowed, no swords, no daggers...

Wait, someone's using silver needles?

Clear them all out!

This is my platform—we fight with fists only!

I can take a thousand punches, a hundred even, but if a Lingqi— even a low-grade one—strikes me, my Xiantian body will bleed.

So, you're all going down!

While clearing the field, Xu Xiaoshou spread out the battlefield and adjusted his stances to expose himself to as many fists as possible at the same time.

The human body has limited surface area, so even with forty or fifty people charging, no more than ten could hit you at once.

But Xu Xiaoshou was different. With every punch that landed, he flailed, darted, and leaped, doing everything to let every attacker get a piece of him.

The only thing he needed to watch was protecting his vital spots from serious injury.

"Under attack, passive value +11."

"Under attack, passive value +22."

"Under attack, passive value +33."

In his mind, the information panel's entries for passive value kept climbing, starting from the teens and slowly rising to the twenties, then thirties...

Xu Xiaoshou's skills grew sharper by the moment, and the attackers were getting more and more excited.

Even though they couldn't see that arrogant brat clearly, somehow every punch they threw always landed on his smug face.

The thrill of solid hits felt amazing!

So damn satisfying!

Am I really this strong?

Some fighters, lost in the moment, even closed their eyes, feeling like they were on the verge of enlightenment, perfectly aligned with the Dao.

This is... the feeling of Xiantian!

Mom, I broke through!

The referee was stunned. What a brutal scene!

He watched as that cocky kid's once-decently handsome face distorted repeatedly under the barrage of heavy fists.

His sunken abdomen, bent arms, and even his straightened toes—all enduring unimaginable torment.

Yes, Xu Xiaoshou's shoes had been knocked off, so he spread his toes to maximize his body's surface area.

The referee gaped in shock: "Did these guys take some kind of drug? How did they suddenly get so fierce!"

Look at that third-realm guy—what's he doing? Closing his eyes?

Damn... Wasn't that punch aimed at thin air? How did it hit Xu Xiaoshou's shoulder so perfectly?

And that second-realm one...

Huh?

How has he held on without getting thrown off yet?

Oh my god!

He was just about to fly off, but Xu Xiaoshou's mistaken kick pulled him back.

How is that possible?!

The referee was losing it!

Xu Xiaoshou noticed something was off—the numbers were dropping. He had been desperately holding on, but the count had fallen from over sixty to around forty.

Suddenly, he spotted a few shadowy figures lurking in the back, targeting those who had closed their eyes to meditate, sending them flying off the platform the moment they did.

"Damn it, they're cutting into my passive value!"

Xu Xiaoshou stealthily adjusted his position, inching closer to these troublemakers and knocking them out one by one.

These so-called "righteous" platform fighters were the first to crack under Xu Xiaoshou's warped fighting style.

One by one, they stumbled off, dazed and confused, not even sure how they got there.

In the audience seats, the young girl Su Qianqian had covered her eyes, unable to watch, and even Rao Yinyin thought the scene was getting excessive.

The fight had shifted from a chaotic heap to a spread-out web, with attackers at each grid point barely needing to move—they just had to knock Xu Xiaoshou flying so others could send him back.

The "poor" Xu Xiaoshou was like a human sandbag, bouncing around in the attack net, vulnerable from all sides.

The referee decided he had to step in. Though he thought Xu Xiaoshou deserved a good thrashing and was tempted to throw in a punch or two himself, he was a impartial referee and needed to enforce the rules fairly.

Just as he was about to call a halt, he caught sight of Xu Xiaoshou's expression on the "sandbag."

What a twisted look that was!

Grinning through the pain with sheer enjoyment, his bruised and swollen face radiating bliss, his eyebrows dancing with delight, as if he were in ecstasy.

It was almost like...

He wasn't being attacked—he was getting a massage!

Listening closely, the referee heard the "sandbag" muttering through the flurry of fists:

"Feels great!"

"Hit harder if you've got it in you!"

"Faster—aim for a thousand hits a second!"

"Damn, not there..."

The referee: "..."

He silently lowered his hand, deciding against intervening.

Maybe... he doesn't need me after all.

A deep, ancient bell tolled from the horizon, clearing the mind, followed by Xiao Qixiu's voice: "One incense stick of time remains until the group stage ends!"

He was speaking directly to Platform 12—this rule was a last-minute addition.

Because the battles on the other seventeen platforms had already finished.

The fights elsewhere were straightforward, following tradition: the powerhouses sat back, the strong cleared the field, and the remaining dozen or so settled it with duels.

Only Platform 12 was a spectacle of sheer mayhem and intensity.

Now, people who had left the other platforms, originally planning to rest, had filled the audience seats for Platform 12.

They stared wide-eyed at the gruesome display.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Have the people on Platform 12 lost their minds?"

"This is insane—they're not treating anyone like a human being. This fighting style is barbaric!"

"Exactly, a group beating is bad enough, but this is over the top. At least spare the face..."

"Yeah, we're all from the same Linggong— we see each other all the time. Tsk tsk!"

The weak always drew sympathy from onlookers. Some female disciples couldn't stand it anymore, tears streaming down their faces as they cheered for Xu Xiaoshou:

"You bastards... Wait, no, not you... Xu Xiaoshou, hang in there!"

"Xu Xiaoshou, keep fighting!"

"Xu Xiaoshou, you're the best!"

The cheers spread like wildfire, echoing through the seats.

Onlookers who didn't know the full story jumped in, rallying for Xu Xiaoshou while glaring at those who had just been knocked off Platform 12.

Those "voluntary" leavers felt utterly wronged. Do you even know what happened? Try stepping up yourself!

On the platform,

Hearing there was only one incense stick left, Xu Xiaoshou dropped the act.

He had been luring everyone to the platform's edge all along. Though they seemed to be wildly attacking, they were completely under his control.

It was like Taiji and Bagua—if the momentum was set, even the attackers couldn't stop.

Xu Xiaoshou leaped toward the edge, pulling everyone with him. Like moths to a flame, they all flew off, their faces shocked as their bodies left the platform.

In an instant, the scene fell silent.

"My heavens!"

"What just happened?"

The audience erupted. Was Platform 12 cursed? First, a brutal fight to the death, and now this—everyone jumping off?

Were they scared off by the cheers, shamed beyond endurance?

On the platform,

After Xu Xiaoshou's maneuver, excluding the referee, only four people remained.

He forcibly dragged back the tall man who had first attacked him—the one called Qiu Wei?

"There's half an incense stick left. After thinking it over, you're the strongest hitter, so let's go another round!" Xu Xiaoshou said earnestly.

This guy's "Hundred Steps Beast King Fist" was worth fifty elite soldiers on its own!

Qiu Wei's face turned deathly pale at the words. He glanced around at the empty space, feeling utterly alone.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He retched and jumped straight off the platform.

Xu Xiaoshou: "???"

The referee couldn't watch anymore and waved his hand: "Match over!"

Nearby,

Liu Zhen let out a deep breath, staring at the deadly and ruthless Xu Xiaoshou, forcing a lighthearted tone: "I told you to wait and see, didn't I? He's in the top ten..."

Zhou Zuo swallowed hard, his mind reeling with shock.

"Liu Ge,"

"It's the top three!"