Chapter 1643: The Thief

Chapter 1643: Thief

Under everyone's watchful eyes, Ye Chen walked away with the merit book tucked away.

Behind him were pairs of admiring gazes, as if looking at a god. Even after betting on a thousand fights, no one had seen anyone like him.

The arena master clutched his chest, his face unusually dark, his eyes red with distress. It hurt more than if he had been killed.

Having been a Ming General for so many years, this was his first time losing so badly.

The other arena masters sighed, their eyes full of pity, and a strange sense of dread. Thankfully, Ye Chen hadn't gone to their arenas earlier.

This incident served as a lesson; they all became more cautious, determined to keep an eye out for Ye Chen, or the consequences would be severe.

"Strength means you can do as you please. This merit is worth what we've saved for years. Never seen such a freak."

"If I had that kind of power, I'd go wild too, wild to the death."

"The arena master's regretting it so much, he dug his own pit."

As discussions buzzed, the crowd slowly dispersed, each heading to their own areas.

Fights resumed, with shouts and cheers echoing through the heavens. The fighters themselves weren't making much noise, but the spectators were yelling loudly.

At some point, a person entered the fighting arena.

It was a burly man, bare-chested, with a tiger-like back and bear-like waist, striding arrogantly, looking fierce and bandit-like.

That guy was undoubtedly Ye Chen, having changed his appearance, sneaking back for another round. After all, this was the easiest place to earn merit.

"Clever me, always coming back." Ye Chen smoothed his hair, glanced around, and then stepped onto a small hill.

He played his role enthusiastically; having just fought, he rushed up, acting as wildly and bandit-like as possible.

The arena master was a sharp-faced, monkey-like old man.

Seeing Ye Chen step up, he narrowed his eyes and scrutinized him repeatedly.

After a moment, he stood up, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Quick, someone come! That guy's here again!"

At those words, Ye Chen's mouth twitched. He could still be recognized?

In less than a second, no fewer than seventy or eighty arena masters rushed over.

Well then! Ye Chen was surrounded in layers, inside and out.

The arena master who had lost to him twice before was among them, his forehead veins bulging, glaring fiercely with a blown beard.

"What's the meaning of this?" Ye Chen coughed and involuntarily stepped back.

"No particular meaning." The arena masters all smiled amiably, but their grins were unsettling. A few were even rolling up their sleeves.

Then, Ye Chen was beaten. A group of Saint-level Ming Generals attacked like they were on stimulants, full of energy.

Soon, Ye Chen was thrown out, pummeled by the crowd until he couldn't lift his head, and they didn't hold back.

To his credit, this guy was tough. Even on the brink of being beaten to death, he stubbornly disguised himself again and sneaked back in.

Shortly after, he emerged once more, covered in footprints from head to toe.

After that, this fellow kept transforming into various forms to slip into the fighting arena, like a humanoid ox-head or a humanoid horse-face.

However, he was exposed every time and ended up getting a beating.

The arena masters had sharp eyes and were extremely united. Spotting Ye Chen, they cleared him out without a word.

They thought, Do you really think we're blind? We fell for it once, but we're not falling for it again. Someone like you deserves a thrashing.

After several attempts, Ye Chen truly became like a thief, putting all the arena masters on high alert. With such bloody examples, they had no choice but to be vigilant.

On the umpteenth time, Ye Chen was thrown out of the fighting arena.

This time, he was in bad shape—face swollen with black eyes, clutching his waist, walking with a limp.

His hair was a mess, like a bird's nest, scratched all over, and his nosebleed kept flowing no matter how he wiped it.

"Oh, got beaten again?" Seeing Ye Chen in such a sorry state, Zhao Yun stood with his hands behind his back, chuckling in a way that was annoyingly smug.

"Don't mention it, it's all tears." Ye Chen grimaced.

"Is merit that important to you?" Zhao Yun asked with a smile.

"Very important. I need to raise my rank to Ming General so I can ask the judge for a pass document." As Ye Chen spoke, he glanced toward the direction of Nai He Bridge, as if he could see Chu Ling'er at the bridgehead through the void.

"No wonder you're going all out." Zhao Yun shook his head with a smile.

"Forcing me to go kill those evil dragons!" Ye Chen scratched his head.

"With your strength, it won't take long."

"That's true." Ye Chen patted his behind and stood up, looking around before heading straight to the largest shop.

Since he was going to kill evil dragons, Summon Dragon Powder was essential.

The shop was spacious, like its own world inside, selling all sorts of items: Ming artifacts, pills, secret scrolls, you name it.

The shop owner was a plump old man, bare-chested and enormously fat, with a kind face, like a Maitreya Buddha.

"Do you have Summon Dragon Powder?" Ye Chen stated his purpose directly.

"One thousand Ming stones per bag," the plump old man said with a smile.

"I don't have Ming stones, but I can use merit instead."

"One merit equals one thousand Ming stones, so one merit for one bag of Summon Dragon Powder. How many do you want?"

"Fifty." Ye Chen said, already pulling out his merit book, not bothering to haggle. His time was precious.

The plump old man was over the moon. Fifty merits was no small sum—or rather, a big deal.

Ye Chen transferred fifty merits to the plump old man's merit book, took the storage bag of Summon Dragon Powder, and left.

But in the next second, he turned back.

The plump old man, happily holding his merit book, looked up curiously. "Is there a problem with the Summon Dragon Powder?"

"No problem." Ye Chen replied casually, his sharp eyes scanning the shelves, searching for something.

After a couple of breaths, he stepped forward and went to a corner of the shop. On the shelf was a black broken sword.

Ye Chen reached out, grasped the black sword, brushed off the dust, and examined it closely, his eyes deep and profound.

The broken sword was peculiar, made of an unknown material, incredibly hard, engraved with ancient divine patterns, and quite heavy.

Its level wasn't high, only Quasi-Saint Soldier grade, and it was damaged.

Most importantly, there was a golden character engraved on the hilt.

It was the character "wang," about the size of an adult's fingernail, emitting a faint golden glow, full of mystery.

Ye Chen took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with sharpness.

He was absolutely certain that the "wang" character was an Escaping Armor Heavenly Character.

It was precisely because of this Escaping Armor Heavenly Character that he was drawn back. This was definitely a treasure, priceless.

He was puzzled, though—how could there be a yang world Escaping Armor Heavenly Character in the Ming realm? Who brought it in, or was it originally here?

"Fancy this sword?" The plump old man walked over with his hands behind his back, smiling as he held up two fingers. "Two hundred merits."

"One hundred." Ye Chen replied while still examining it.

"Deal." The plump old man was straightforward, probably not valuing the sword much and eager to sell it to free up space.

"Did I overpay?" Ye Chen muttered, putting away the sword and reluctantly taking out his merit book to transfer one hundred merits.

"Take care." The plump old man smiled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"And throw in another bag of Summon Dragon Powder." Ye Chen was quick, snatching another bag on his way out and dashing off.

"Hey!" The plump old man chased after him, but Ye Chen was already gone, leaving him fuming with a blown beard and darkened face.

On the street, Ye Chen examined the sword while heading toward the city gates.

The sword itself wasn't valuable; what was precious was the Escaping Armor Heavenly Character on it, related to the Escaping Armor Heavenly Book, which couldn't be measured by money.

Outside the city, Zhao Yun leaned against a large tree. Seeing Ye Chen approach, he stretched lazily. "Two people will make it faster."

"You're going to help me kill the evil dragons?" Ye Chen's eyes lit up.

"Got nothing else to do." Zhao Yun shrugged.

"Perfect!" Ye Chen was in high spirits. Zhao Yun's combat strength was on par with his, so with help, the efficiency would double.

The two set off side by side, stepping into the void and heading straight for the Sea of Evil.

As soon as they left, Black Impermanence and White Impermanence arrived.

After searching everywhere, they realized Ye Chen had come to Ghost City, but even after scouring it, they couldn't find him.

"Damn, late again." Black Impermanence cursed.

"Off to the Sea of Evil again?" White Impermanence stroked his tongue.

"In my opinion, we should stop looking. With that kid's personality, once he has enough merit, he'll go to Yan Luo Hall to find the judge."

"As if he'd get a pass document. Having enough merit doesn't mean his cultivation meets the standard. Divine positions aren't a joke."

As they spoke, the two entered a tavern, quite lazy about it, ordering a pot of good wine and a couple of side dishes.

Meanwhile, Ye Chen and Zhao Yun streaked through the sky like immortal light and divine radiance, adding two splashes of brilliance to the dim heavens.

After three hours, the two descended from the sky one after another.

The Sea of Evil was as sinister as ever, with roaring waves, malicious ghosts howling, and evil, resentful, and wicked thoughts intertwining, creating a terrifying scene.

"A place of great malice." Zhao Yun sighed, his expression cautious.

"Even the Ming Emperor can't completely eradicate it; it's incredibly troublesome. Even the Ten Kings of Yan Luo might not dare go deeper."

"Give me half of the Summon Dragon Powder." Zhao Yun extended his hand.

Ye Chen obliged, dividing the fifty bags in half.

The two got to work, each heading in a different direction, scattering the Summon Dragon Powder.

Dragon roars erupted immediately, and two evil dragons charged out at the same time, their massive black bodies stirring thunder and dark clouds.

Ye Chen's fighting style was as domineering as ever; he leaped onto the evil dragon's head, not even using a weapon, just unleashing savage Eight Wastelands Fists.

The evil dragon coiled and roared, unable to shake him off, its enormous head smashed by Ye Chen's fists until blood and bones flew everywhere.

On the other side, Zhao Yun was just as fierce, flipping the evil dragon over with a palm that covered the sky, then mounting it and fighting bare-handed, beating the dragon's body until it cracked.

What are monsters? This is what monsters look like, and there are two of them.

To single-handedly challenge an evil dragon at the Emperor Realm level, in the entire Yin Cao Underworld, probably only these two would dare.

"In two universes, two eras, two protagonists."

In a majestic hall, the Ming Emperor spoke leisurely, his voice ethereal.

Before him floated a water screen, displaying the scene of Ye Chen and Zhao Yun battling the great dragons.

"Dao Wu held back, but so did you, Ming Emperor."

The Emperor Desolate manifested, smiling faintly, also gazing at the water screen.

The one who once single-handedly fought the Five Emperors now looked at Ye Chen and Zhao Yun with satisfaction. The talents of later generations were truly astonishing.

"The two of them will have a battle." The Ming Emperor chuckled, turning to Emperor Desolate. "In your view, who will win?"

"It's a draw, mutual destruction." Emperor Desolate replied calmly.