Kill The Old Ones!

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The groups were labeled alphabetically, and it reached all the way to letter ’N,’ meaning that there were fourteen groups of five.

That makes 70 participants, exactly.

And with only two from each group advancing to the next round, this means that only 28 people will advance.

They will really shave a lot of people from this tournament right away. This event was said to last for three days, but the way they arranged it made it seem like they want to be done with it by the end of the day.

Ren wasn’t thinking much in the first place, but he did end up at Group N.

Looking at the board that listed the names of those in the same group as he was and also the details of each group, Ren discovered something.

’They did on purpose.’

Ren wasn’t one to toot his own horn, but looking at the other groups, it was clear that the organizers manipulated the lots.

They made sure that those with big reputations and backgrounds, like Central City’s Four Heavenly Kings, the heirs of the ancient families, and representatives of the martial sects and guilds, won’t meet at the preliminary round.

They’re saving that clash for later to build up the hype.

Maybe that’s why Ren was at Group N, because even though a lot of people don’t consider his clan one of the Ancient Martial Clans, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the representative of them.

He had seen the names of those in the same group as him: Hunter Graves, Zachary Reed, Benjamin Crow, Tyler Knox—none of these names he could recall. They were, most likely, commoners who are blessed with a little bit of talent and happened to qualify for this tournament.

Ren was pretty certain that he wasn’t the only one who noticed this. A lot of people do. He could hear them from where he was.

He didn’t hear them complaining, though. Even though it’s clear that the preliminary draws were manipulated, none blamed the organizers for doing so because they understood that they were doing it for the highlights and the hype.

Once they were done with the draws, the participants were herded to their respective stages. Ren, along with the other four in Group N, was led to their stage.

There was a referee already standing there. Upon their arrival, the referee didn’t waste time and explained to them how this was going to go.

”One on one matches, the top two who has won more matches proceeds to the next rounds. Alright, who will start?”

Ren didn’t hesitate; he raised his hand to declare that he wanted to go first. Alongside him was Tyler Knox, who immediately eyed Ren with fighting spirit blazing in his eyes.

”Alright, you two, tell me your names and we’ll start the match.”

”Soren Marek Vire.”

”Tyler Knox.”

”Alright, stand on the opposite sides of the stage. The others step down and wait for your turn. Whoever wins this match could choose to continue or go down for a brief rest.”

The other participants stepped down to make way for the two.

Tyler was already wearing his armor and had drawn his weapons. His eyes were locked to Ren’s body, primed to react to any of his movements.

Ren felt that weird, but he didn’t say a word.

When it’s only they and the referee on the stage, the referee begins counting down. And with the blow of his whistle and a sharp raise of his hand, the signal to begin the fight was released.

”Hah!!” Tyler wasted no time. He rushed Ren with his spear before the other could even do anything.

Ren wanted to perform a respectful gesture before the fight began, but he couldn’t since the other party was really showing some fighting spirit.

He wasn’t perturbed, though.

In his perception, Tyler’s speed was too slow. Ren literally felt bored waiting for him to finally come close enough to be a threat.

Had Ren wanted, he could’ve run laps around Tyler with the same amount of time he’s using to close the distance between them. But Ren thought that it was a little too early for him to show that level of skill, so he just stayed put.

When Tyler finally arrived with his spear gleaming with a sharp, metallic sheen, Ren had already thought about ten ways to defeat him.

He chose the one that required the least amount of effort.

Ren shifted his body to the side, allowing Tyler to be carried by his own momentum closer to him. When he was close enough, Ren raised his leg and stomped at his spear.

Not strong enough to snap it in half, just enough to ground it and paralyze Tyler.

The impact woke Tyler from his fantasy, and by the time he realized that he had gotten a little too close and committed a rookie mistake, Ren’s fist had already sunk to his gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Tyler felt his strength draining away. His spear helplessly fell to the floor as he used both his hands to clutch his stomach, his face blanched, and he began sweating coldly.

With another punch, Ren set Tyletr flying off the stage.

The referee began counting down from 10 the moment Tyler’s back hit the ground outside of the stage. Tyler lost consciousness with Ren’s second punch, so he didn’t get up after the countdown was over.

This resulted in his loss.

Ren won this match, and the referee asked him, ”Continue or rest?”

”Continue,” Ren indifferently replied. His eyes landed on the three outside; he then pointed to Benjamin Crow and beckoned him up.

Benjamin didn’t like the blatant indifference pointed at him. He accepted the challenge, dragging his pole axe up the stage while glaring at Ren as if relaying a message.

Ren could scoff, but he didn’t. Slimes look more intimidating than this man, but the other party doesn’t have to know that.

The match between him and Benjamin began, and just like Tyler, this one was also slow.

Ren ended the match in a single punch just to return the message. And just like Tyler, Benjamin lost consciousness the moment he landed outside the stage.

This marked another win for Ren, and he didn’t waste time. He pointed at Zachary Reed to come up next.

Again, one punch sealed the deal.

These boys don’t learn. They keep rushing him headfirst as if that’s going to change the outcome, but it never did.

Last but not least, Hunter Graves.

This one didn’t end in a single punch. Hunter was clever and learned from the mistakes of the other two. He rushed at Ren, yes, but he’s also weary of the other’s strong fist.

He wasn’t committed to the rush; that much was clear to Ren. Had he thrown a punch, Hunter would have just evaded it and planned a counterattack instead.

So, when he didn’t, Hunter felt surprised. But he retreated anyway. He realized that the other party realized what he wanted to do. He didn’t bite the bait.

Hunter flourished his daggers, and his body released a stream of chakra that increased his speed. He was using his movement technique to confuse and have Ren commit to something so he could exploit it.

Ren did throw a punch, just as Hunter expected, but it landed.

Hunter tried to evade it, but Ren saw through his intent and aimed at the correct spot. Hunter did manage to mitigate some of the damage by reacting fast enough, but his expression still twisted because that punch, even though it was only a graze, still hurts like a bitch.

He then realized why the three from earlier fainted after catching Ren’s first. Who could’ve thought that his fists were so heavy?

Ren would applaud Hunter’s reflexes if he hadn’t seen something more impressive.

Such is the plight of martial artists coming from humble backgrounds, though. They have no inheritance; they could only buy inferior techniques sold online or in stores, and even those might cost them an arm and a leg.

In the end, Ren still won. Sure, he didn’t end the match in a single punch; he did seal his victory after landing the first one.

Hunter’s mobility was affected by the pain from that first punch, after all. The second one practically rendered him immobilized, and the third one ripped any of his remaining hopes of winning to shreds.

”Five wins to you. You’re moving to the next round. You can stay around and watch or return to the waiting room. Up to you.”

Ren gestured respectfully to the referee and chose to return to the waiting room instead.

He couldn’t care less who moves on with him from this group to the next stage because he knew that whoever it was wouldn’t likely move on to the next anyway.

This wasn’t him being arrogant; it’s a simple fact. After all, the disparity between those with backgrounds and those who don’t is truly too immense.

That kind of gap wouldn’t be crossed anytime soon, and certainly not with just sheer hard work and effort alone.