Chapter 72: Coaxing

A few days later, as the organizer of the Martial Tournament, various major news outlets began building hype for the upcoming event. After all, in this era where everyone practiced martial arts, the Martial Tournament was akin to an annual New Year's celebration. Each territory was vying to feature news about their own region.

In Sentinel City, all the headlines were dominated by the First Martial Academy. Last year, the First Martial Academy’s main team only made it to the top 32, but their team captain, the senior Zhang Dong, had become the most popular contestant. Right behind him was the newly emerging powerhouse, Duanmu Ci. This year, Zhang Dong was already twenty-five, and since the Martial Tournament set an upper age limit of twenty-five for young talents, this might be his last chance to compete. That made Duanmu Ci the natural heir to the spotlight—the rookie star upon whom Sentinel City pinned high hopes.

The tournament officials also released the updated team rosters for all the academies in Sentinel City. The First Martial Academy’s main team was, naturally, the most popular. In compliance with official requirements, they had even filmed a new promotional video for the tournament. As the “favored child” of Sentinel City, nearly every member received a close-up, while other academies were only allotted brief shots of their star players. Pathetically, some academies like Lan Feng didn’t even have a single member featured. At the end of the promo, only the participating teams’ logos were displayed.

The official web pages introducing each team told the same story. The top teams from previous years received hundreds of thousands of views—the three teams from First Martial Academy all had millions—while Lan Feng’s team page barely managed a few hundred.

“Thanks to Duanmu Ci’s addition, the overall strength of First Martial Academy’s main team has soared from last year’s Warrior Level 9 to Fighter Level 1. This year, they’re ranked first in Sentinel City and top three in Guanshan Territory! In other words, they have every chance of making it into the top sixteen in the finals!” Zhang Yang lounged on his bed, limbs wrapped in bandages, scrolling the web with his voice assistant.

The others looked just as battered; a few days ago, they had been thoroughly beaten up by the Longjiang team.

“What about us?” Zhao Hu asked as he applied ointment.

Zhang Yang used the smart assistant to search for “Lan Feng Academy,” and the system instantly pulled up their team info and related news. He grinned, “We’re not at the very bottom! Out of the nine academies in Sentinel City, we’re ranked eighth. In Guanshan Territory, we’re forty-second.”

Wang Biao and the others glanced at their own stats, somewhat ashamed. “This is pretty embarrassing. In two years, other teams have skyrocketed like rockets, while we’ve stayed flat on the horizon. I really don’t get what the captain is thinking. He could have gone back to First Martial Academy, reinforced their lineup, and had a solid shot at the top sixteen. Why stay with us? Before, when we didn’t know how strong he was, it didn’t matter if we dragged him down. But now, with his abilities, keeping him here just feels unfair. What do we have to compete with? Our heads?”

They couldn’t bear to look at their own “Warrior Level 6” ranking.

“Honestly, I wish I could blur out my profile and team bio.”

Checking the forums, they found few threads about Lan Feng—and the single active post with over a thousand comments was all mockery.

Of course, Zhang Yang and the others clicked in, hoping to find a kind word or two.

“This Lan Feng team is a living lesson in laziness. Know why their academy is right across from the First Martial Academy? It’s a mirror—to constantly remind the First not to follow their example.”

“With strength like that, they’re allowed to compete? If I joined, we’d still lose anyway.”

“Actually, you couldn’t do it, because your skin isn’t as thick as theirs! They’ve used that same team photo for four or five years. No matter how harsh the words, they shamelessly keep it up.”

“This team is truly bizarre. If there were a ranking for psychological fortitude, they’d be at the top. They’re utterly unfazed by ridicule. To compete with that level of skill—I have to admire their lack of shame. Oh, sorry, they must not have any shame at all.”

“Look at their members—most are over twenty-two. Career slackers! Coasting along since eighteen.”

“Teams like this should be permanently banned from the tournament. They drag down the experience for everyone. No wonder Sentinel City rarely makes the top sixteen. With weak opponents all around, how can anyone improve? The Guanshan Territory’s most lackluster contest is always here in Sentinel. The same three teams monopolize the show every year, and no amount of hype can make it interesting.”

“Though, to be fair, this year there’s some buzz. Know who Lan Feng’s new captain is? Ever heard of the mysterious, trending descendant of the Chu family? That’s right—the captain, Chu Yun, is their only heir, and he’s just seventeen. Rumor has it he even defeated Duanmu Ci recently.”

A First Martial Academy fan chimed in: “Beating Duanmu Ci is pure rumor—don’t spread nonsense. Even if Chu Yun is strong, it doesn’t matter! With Lan Feng’s sorry lineup, he’d break his back carrying the team. Last year, our main team averaged Warrior Level 9 and still only made the top 32. The tournament is about diverse scoring—not solo heroics. Mark my words: Lan Feng won’t make it out of the group stage.”

After reading the comments, Zhang Yang and the others were thoroughly dispirited. Online, they were labeled as either freeloaders or trash—good for nothing.

“Let’s stop reading this stuff,” Wang Biao said, exhausted as he closed the browser. “Getting beaten up by Longjiang every day was bad enough. Now we have to endure this online abuse too.”

“By the way, where’s the captain?” Zhao Hu asked curiously.

Just then, Chu Yun came in, pushing a wheelchair. Sitting in it was his mother, Liu Yu.

“Mom, see? I wasn’t lying. I may not be at First Martial Academy anymore, but I’m doing fine here at Lan Feng. Let me introduce you—these are my teammates. Don’t listen to Principal Gu’s nonsense. Anything they have, Lan Feng can offer me too,” Chu Yun reassured her softly. “I can still compete in the Martial Tournament here.”

“Hello, Auntie,” Zhang Yang and the others greeted Liu Yu when they heard Chu Yun address her.

“But… Principal Gu said that if you returned, you’d definitely make it to the finals. He told me Lan Feng’s students just aren’t up to par.” Liu Yu lowered her voice, embarrassed to say this in front of Zhang Yang and the others.

But as martial artists, their hearing was keen—they caught every word and felt awkward.

Liu Yu grasped Chu Yun’s hand, pleading, “Son, I feel my time is almost up. My only wish is to see you compete in the finals. If I can see that, I’ll have no regrets.”

“Mom, it was they who drove me out. I won’t go back,” Chu Yun replied with a bitter smile. “I promise you—we’ll qualify for the finals here at Lan Feng. Will you listen to me and agree to the surgery? Look at my teammates—look how hard they train. They’re all injured, but their dedication is real. Have some faith—we’ll win a place.”

Wang Biao and the others felt a flicker of emotion.

At last, Chu Yun turned to them. “Isn’t that right? Are you with me?”

The group stared at him, then at Liu Yu’s pale, ashen face. Suddenly, they broke into broad grins and nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, Auntie!”