Chapter 0082

Chapter 82: I, Zhou Tong, Volunteer to Join the Empress’s Martial Tournament for Marriage!

At dawn the next day, Zhou Tong was still wandering through the Imperial Capital, only to keep track of the Grand Array of Living Silence in real time. Today was different from before: he was stuck in a terrible Asura field made of pure jealousy.

The little demoness hugged one of his arms so hard he could not pull it free, and Zhang Chu Qiao held on to the other with equal force. The little demoness glared across Zhou Tong and snapped at the eldest senior sister: “Senior sister, aren’t you going too far?”

The eldest senior sister smiled with sweet danger, then teased Zhou Tong in a lazy, husky whisper by his ear: “I’m not letting go.” She lifted her proud chest on purpose and brushed lightly against his arm, making him feel struck by lightning. [This chest is an ultimate weapon.]

The little demoness huffed after a quick look at her own full chest, saying with utter confidence: “Hmph, what’s there to brag about? I won’t lose to you in the future.”

The eldest senior sister clicked her tongue and replied, “Please, you’re still a kid.”

The little demoness shot back with a smug grin, “You’re one to talk. Who was it last night, sitting on the floor bawling and making a scene, boo-hoo, so pitiful!”

Zhou Tong could only look helpless. All this started because Zhang Chu Qiao got bored in the Heaven Prison and wanted to see the bustle of the Imperial Capital. He could not refuse, or the stunning eldest senior sister would cry and fuss the whole night. He gave in fast, but set one condition: Zhang Chu Qiao had to dress as a man.

Just then, a great commotion rose from the crowd. Zhou Tong saw the chief of the Guard Corps back on his old job, declaring the will of Her Majesty the Empress to the people of the Imperial Capital. The edict rang out: “The Ling Xiao Empress says: I am twenty-six and have no child. This is a worry for the nation. My ministers remind me often that a country cannot lack an heir. I agree. So I will choose a hero from the common people to be my husband and share the realm and its glory. A Martial Arena has been set up at the center of the Imperial Capital. There will be a martial tournament to choose a husband. Any man under thirty may enter. The final winner will marry me on that very day.”

Hearing the edict, Zhou Tong felt his mind explode. Last night he thought Qian Miao Yu was only joking. He did not expect her to be serious.

The little demoness frowned and asked, “Is she really in such a rush to marry herself off? With her power and talent, she’ll look the same even after a hundred years, right?”

A familiar voice came from behind, clear and calm: “A hundred years is too long. I seize the day.” The people around them fell to their knees at once and cried, “Your Majesty!” The Empress said, “Rise.” No one knew when Qian Miao Yu had arrived. She fixed her eyes on Zhou Tong, her gaze full of complicated feeling. She had dreamed of him again last night. It was not a nightmare, but it still kept her up all night.

She asked plainly, not hiding anything: “Guest official, do you feel like joining the tournament?” Zhou Tong’s heart jumped. Her ambition was written on her face. If he dared step onto the stage, she would carry him to the end for sure. He glanced at the tiger-eyed eldest senior sister and the little demoness clinging to him and felt a chill run down his back. He started to refuse, saying, “I’ll pass on the tournament,” but he suddenly noticed a strange group.

They wore long robes. Two young men led them, one in black and one in red. Behind them followed five Life and Death Realm experts and a large train of attendants. Zhou Tong felt the little demoness go tense all at once. Even her breathing paused. That meant extreme stress.

[Who are these people?] Zhou Tong spread his spirit sense and quietly covered the black-robed youth. The instant he touched the man’s aura, information flooded his mind: Zhan Tian Realm, Seventh Layer, carrying thirty-four talismans, most likely a talisman master. The red-robed youth was even stronger, at the Zhan Tian Realm, Ninth Layer, and he was clearly the chief of the group. Zhou Tong suddenly recalled the little demoness carving runes. It was obvious she had a deep link to these people.

“If that’s the case, I’ll join for fun,” Zhou Tong said, changing his tune at once. The two girls beside him froze in shock.

The little demoness blurted, “You little scoundrel, everyone in the Imperial Capital knows you. Who would dare fight you?”

“It’s fine. The guest official can wear a mask,” the Empress said at once, eyes lighting up, afraid he might change his mind.

“Settled,” Zhou Tong said, making the final call.

“Then I’m joining too,” Zhang Chu Qiao declared as her aura surged. She had made up her mind: she would knock her beloved junior brother out of the bracket and never let the Empress have her way.

The Martial Arena roared with people. The number of entrants was endless. No wonder: the prize was too rich. A peerless empress, half the realm, and glory beyond compare. Beat everyone and you get it all. Who could resist?

At registration, the clerk’s face twisted as if it would smoke. An old man with a white beard long enough to brush his pants insisted he was a young lad. The clerk barked, “Your age? Lying to the throne is a crime!” The old man lifted his chin and said, “This old… ahem, this young master is eighteen years old and one thousand months.” The clerk shouted, “Throw him out!”

As the clerk burned with anger, a figure dropped from the sky. It was the Guard Captain. Officials bowed at once, saying, “Greetings, chief.” His rank was not ordinary. He waved them off and said, “Enough bows. I have orders.” He yanked the registrar close and whispered in his ear: “The guest official will arrive here wearing a mask any moment. Use any method you must, but make sure he wins to the end. Understand?” The registrar’s eyes lit up. He nodded hard and said, “I understand. I will not mess this up.” “Good,” the Guard Captain said with a satisfied nod. “One more thing.” He pulled out a sketch showing the eldest senior sister dressed as a man. “Give this one the fiercest enemies. He must not reach the finals.” The registrar thumped his chest and promised, “Consider it done. I’ll arrange them perfectly.”