What?

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 by him. One of the girls giggled as the leader of the pack glanced to his side and saw Su Min holding a old book.

He paused, then turning to the giggling girl, he laughed aswell spoke with a voice loud enough for Su Min to hear.

"Look Li An, we even have the homeless attending!"

The mocking tone in his voice was apparent as he sneered at Su Min with his emphasised expression. The girl behind him giggled even more as she glanced at Su Min with indifference. Though, 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 wry 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.

"Are you guys retarded or something?! The two with the glowing number plates, go and fight!"

"Ah..?"

Everyone's gazes seemed to shift onto him as he realised he was meant to fight, so he could only get up and stroll towards the arena with that insignificant figure of his.

"How can he fight? Truly pitiful..."

"Sh! He may be a black horse!"

"Him? Even I can see protruding bones from here, so how can he possibly throw a punch?"

"He's holding a book? What's he going to do with that? Beat his opponent with it? Haha!"

The scrolls on the pillars shone with an unreal light as it wrote the 3 simple words, 'Su Min V Qiu Jin'.

The muffled voices of many seemed to merge as he walked past everyone, although his eyes were unaffected. He eventually got to the stage, but his speed seemed to be slow as he found the opponent was already standing there.

'That guy?'

On the stage stood the same guy that mocked him first, although as Su Min didn't really pay attention, he noticed his exquisite and defined muscles and how they contrast with his mere skeleton frame. Qiu Jin's eyes shone with bright arrogance as he bent his knees down and grinned.

"Oh? Wow, I guess fate really hates you!"

Qiu Jin had a nonchalant expression as he strode towards Su Min whilst stretching his muscles. Su Min gulped, and putting himself in a fighting position, he waited.

"Wrong posture. Move your right arm up a bit!"

*WOOSH*

Qiu Jin, as he got within arms reach, mocked before tossing a casual punch towards Su Min. His whole body tensed for a second, hurling an explosive force.

"Ah-"

The punch's speed was unbelievable and didn't even catch Su Min's lines of sight as it dodged his vision and hurled itself into his ribs. It was only until a second passed did he realise that a fist had shoved itself into his stomach, compressing his insides with a tyrannical strength.

*THRASH*

*GUH*

He felt his body rupture while a mouthful of blood shoved itself into his throat. He couldn't breathe as he threw it up in successions all over the floor. The book he held at his waist fell as he became unable to support his weight, so he fell with it.

Qiu Jin's breathing was quickened yet triumphant when he saw how injured Su Min was. Some of the people in the crowd shone with looks of alarm whilst others blazed with fighting spirit.

"Ah, sorry there, I did say that getting punched hurts..."

The old man opened his eyes slightly when a hint of praise shone in them. He was about to ask the staff members to pick up the injured kid when his eyes widened at a sight that made people gasp.

"Agh..."

Su Min, whom everyone thought wouldn't be able to stand after having his organs punctured, suddenly sighed as he picked up the book to his side and just... Stood up. No hint of pain shone in those hazy eyes of his. Instead, he seemed to be used to it, like it was a daily affair of his.

"Wa..?"

"Is he human?!"

Su Min expression remained unchanged as he walked off the stage, sighing as an occasional sliver of blood drooped from his mouth, dripping onto the floor with a pitter-patter.

"I lost..."