Han Yu gazed at the butcher, trying to estimate his strength but was unable to.
’Damn, one of those clairvoyant pills that gave me Spirit sense would’ve come in handy here.’ Han Yu thought to himself.
Unfortunately for him, Li Mei had been unable to make the same pill again. She had, of course, tried to do it and did some animal testing first, but they had been quite lethal, so she suspended that for the time being.
After all, she didn’t want her precious pill tester to do so soon.
As the time of the match grew closer, and people finished placing thier bets, Han Yu could only hope that the man in front of him wasn’t a qi cultivator.
Though as a last try, he decided to just ask the man.
"Hey, what’s your cultivation?" Han Yu questioned.
"Not telling." The butcher said with a bloody grin.
"Figured it won’t be that easy." Han Yu muttered to himself before he saw the referee move.
The Butcher of Mengzi River Stronghold charged forward, dual cleavers glinting in the torchlight, a manic grin plastered on his face.
Han Yu immediately backpedaled.
"Time to channel my ultimate technique," he muttered, dodging a cleaver strike by a hair. "The Ancient Art of Don’t-Get-Murdered."
A cleaver struck the ground where Han Yu had been a second ago, kicking up dust and splinters.
The crowd roared. They wanted blood.
Han Yu had other plans.
He slipped his hand into his robe sleeve, fumbling around until he found one of Li Mei’s "bonus pills"—the ones meant to be thrown, not eaten. He wasn’t sure what it did. He wasn’t sure Li Mei knew what it did. But right now, anything was better than getting diced into stir fry.
For a moment, he hesitated.
’Wait, is this allowed?’ Han Yu wondered but then saw the butcher charging towards him with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Fuck that, it is what it is." Death was much closer to him than whatever punishement he might get later.
He lobbed it at the Butcher.
The pill detonated mid-air, erupting in a thick cloud of violently pink smoke and a smell like spicy rotten cabbage mixed with wet dog.
The Butcher stopped mid-charge, coughing and gagging. "What in the name of all that’s holy—UGH! My eyes!"
The Butcher felt like he had just smelled some rotten kimchi that was eaten by a dog than shat out. It was enough to make him feel his insides churn.
’It’s now or never.’ Seeing that, Han Yu didn’t hesitate. "Forbidden Street Skill Number One: Ball Buster!" He used his second strongest skill.
He ran forward and kicked the man square in the groin and that too with his leg being strengthened by Vital Energy!
The Butcher folded like bad laundry, hitting the ground with a pained wheeze.
Han Yu grabbed his cleavers, flung them out of the ring almost hitting a few observers who barely managed to dodge them, and delivered a very undignified elbow drop to the man’s belly just for good measure.
A beat of stunned silence.
Then the announcer screamed, "WINNER—HAN YU!"
The arena exploded into cheers, boos, and frenzied shouting.
Someone from the crowd yelled, "What the hell was that? Was that a perfume bomb or a demonic stink spell?!"
Han Yu stumbled out of the ring, waving away the remaining pink cloud. "That, my friend, was called strategy."
Having barely won, Han Yu went to the backstage.
Han Yu sat down on the bench, breathing heavily. His heart was still hammering, his palms slick with sweat.
"That... was too close," he muttered.
One of the underground organizers approached him, tossing him a pouch of gold coins. "Not bad, kid. Unorthodox, but effective. Might have to bump you up a few tiers."
Han Yu forced a smile. "Haha... right. Just let me rest and maybe change my pants first."
"How much did I get though?" He wondered and looked in the pouch.
Luo Fan hadn’t mentioned anything about the exact payment and even the letter only said that the payment will be ’plenty’.
As soon as Han Yu saw the shiny coins in the pouch, his eyes lit up.
"One, five, ten... Thirty?!" Han Yu was stunned.
He had certainly not expected to get more here than his scummy bet from yesterday. He had now increased his wealth to fifty gold coins. It was a massive amount for him, one that he would have never even dreamed of before.
Han Yu quickly hid the pouch in his robes in the fear that someone might try to snatch it.
’I shouldn’t stay here any longer.’ He thought.
But as he turned to leave, he heard a whisper from another masked cultivator: "That was the Sock Prophet, right? He fights like a rabid goose with a grudge."
Han Yu gave a thumbs-up without turning. "Damn right I do."
Back at the Sect, the Next Day
Han Yu stumbled back into his quarters just after sunrise. Clothes tattered, hair singed, reeking faintly of cabbage and mild trauma.
’Ugh, why is the arena so far? It took me more time to walk back than it took me in the fight.’ Han Yu grumbled.
He collapsed onto his bed face-first.
Moments later, a knock.
"NO," he groaned into the new mattress.
"It’s me," came Li Mei’s voice. "I heard something about a butcher, a stink bomb, and your foot in someone’s kidneys. Did you go to an underground fight club without me?"
Han Yu rolled over and cracked open an eye. "Technically, yes. Spiritually? I was very much not present."
"You realize this means we have to test more throwing pills now," Li Mei grinned, stepping inside with a new basket labeled ’Experimental: Do Not Juggle’.
Han Yu groaned. "Please... let me sleep for six years first."
"Fine, but I’m putting in a requisition to reserve you for pill testing again tonight."
Han Yu stared at the ceiling and mumbled, "I am the sock stealer. Not the punch sponge."