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Thanks to the neighboring New Western Heaven Culinary School, the old Western Heaven Street in Zhongjing had transformed into a bustling food street. What made it even better was that this lively stretch was only a few hundred meters from the hotel arranged by the dueling committee. As night fell, the street would light up, and the air would be filled with mouthwatering aromas, tempting even the most disciplined individuals.
In a private room on the second floor of one of these vibrant establishments, a young man sat brooding, clutching a bottle of alcohol with a troubled expression.
"It's just one loss—what's the big deal?" Xiong Dezhen rumbled in his deep voice, tearing into a sizzling, peppery dragon wing that dripped with oil. "You can just come back next year and fight again."
"You don't understand." The melancholic youth took a deep swig from his bottle, gulping hurriedly. He choked, coughing violently for a while before continuing. "It's not that I can't handle losing. I never even expected to take first place—no normal person can hold onto that spot anyway. Every year, there's some freak of nature at the top. It's not like I ever counted myself among them."
"But the top three… I really needed to make it there."
Lu Chuan set the bottle aside, rested his chin on his hand, and turned to glance at Harry, who sat beside him.
"If I didn't know better," Harry shifted uncomfortably under Lu Chuan's gaze, cracking his neck stiffly, "I'd think you were some washed-up middle-aged guy, drowning in mortgage and car loan debt, working overtime just to get screamed at by your boss. Then, after a long day, you go home only to find out your wife ran off with another man after gambling away everything—including your house and car—while your daughter sits on the back of some punk's neon-lit motorcycle, telling you she's pregnant and asking for abortion money."
"Do I really look that miserable?"
Lu Chuan froze, then wiped his face with his hand. Summoning a water mirror with a flick of his fingers, he studied his reflection closely.
"…Damn it." He shattered the water mirror with a slap, splashed cold water on his face, and took a deep breath, his bloodshot eyes reflecting exhaustion.
"Sigh." Whatever resolve he had gathered faded with his sigh. His brows drooped as he took another sip of alcohol and chewed on a piece of grilled meat, mumbling through his mouthful.
"I made a deal with my old man. If I can't make it into the top three this time, I'll have to start preparing to take over the family business. My dad… he's never been good at business. If it weren't for my grandfather keeping an eye on things all these years, God knows what kind of mess my father would've created by now."
"Inheriting a business doesn't sound so bad," Harry shrugged, eyeing Lu Chuan. "How's this any different from those spoiled rich kids who complain about having to take over their billions?"
"I don't actually mind inheriting it—it's inevitable, after all. But that's not the problem." Lu Chuan reached into his coat and pulled out a carefully wrapped envelope. Inside was an old photograph, yellowed with age.
Curious, Harry and Xiong Dezhen leaned in for a closer look.
"Hiss—"
Both burly men instinctively sucked in a breath of cold air.
"This is…" Harry hesitated, exchanging glances with Xiong Dezhen.
"…A reincarnation of Lü Bu? The second coming of Xiang Yu?" Xiong Dezhen's dark eyes widened. "Who's this little guy in the photo? He looks like he's three or four years old, but he's lifting a massive cauldron with one hand. Even among us Pandaren, you don't see that often."
"…Little guy?"
Lu Chuan's mouth twitched. "That's my fiancée. I've never even met her. The photo was taken when she was three. If I'm to inherit the family business… I have to marry first."
"Holy shit?!"
The two men, having just stumbled upon a massive revelation, turned to Lu Chuan with newfound respect.
"I always thought pressing 'F' to enter a tank was impressive," Harry muttered. "But you… you might just be marrying a tank killer."
"Hah." Lu Chuan let out a cold chuckle. "And if I told you she's the personal disciple of Extreme Martial Arts' Hong Wu?"
"…You mean that Hong Wu? The guy who's three meters tall in every direction—the world's most perfect square of a body cultivator?"
Unlike the still-confused Harry, Xiong Dezhen nearly choked on his food. "Damn! His disciples all start at one ton minimum! What was your father thinking, sending his daughter there?"
"Wait—Extreme Martial Arts? Do they have a contestant this year?" Harry blinked at Xiong Dezhen. "I don't remember seeing anyone… that obvious."
"Extreme Martial Arts don't bother with this kind of competition. They're a practical combat school—out of 365 days in a year, they spend 300 fighting on the Nine Nether Battlefield." Xiong Dezhen's mouth twitched slightly. "That's why they're called Extreme. Among all body cultivators, they're the ones who push human limits the hardest. I know an old-timer who once wrestled with one of them… and anyone who can go toe-to-toe with a Pandaren in wrestling—tsk tsk."
"Wouldn't that put them on par with Hagrid?" Harry instinctively swallowed a chunk of meat to steady himself as he realized what he was dealing with. "Hagrid's the perfect half-giant—he can suplex a mountain drake over his shoulder and finish it off in three or four punches."
"…Maybe a little weaker," Xiong Dezhen estimated, rubbing his chin. "Pandaren are slightly less powerful than giants in raw strength, but they're all just big dumb brutes. Even I can beat up two of them in a brawl. But three or four punches to take down a land drake? You serious?"
Hagrid had likely never learned the martial arts styles of the Taishi Celestial Dynasty. Body cultivators here specialized in enhancing their physical attributes and close-quarters combat. But even then, killing a land drake—one of the apex sub-dragon species that had sacrificed flight in exchange for pure physical might—with just a few punches? That was beyond even the top-tier fighters.
"Hagrid's really strong." Harry didn't bother explaining further—it'd take too long. "Right now, I could probably beat him in an arm-wrestling match using one… maybe two fingers at most. But if we fought in a duel, the moment he roared and threw a punch, I'd be dead."
"Oh, I get it. Like Big Ivan." Xiong Dezhen nodded in understanding. "War Roar is a terrifying ability, but it's pure talent—you can't learn it."
Big Ivan was well-known in Pandaren circles. Xiong Dezhen had heard plenty about his exploits on the Nine Nether Battlefield from his father. As the infamous Soviet Meat Grinder, Big Ivan had made quite a name for himself in the Abyssal Warzones.
After this brief tangent, both Harry and Xiong Dezhen instinctively turned their heads toward the frail-looking Lu Chuan.
As a pure mage specializing in spellcasting, Lu Chuan had an athletic build compared to regular people. But among body cultivators? With his physique, taking a single punch from them would have the opponent kneeling down, begging him not to die. He was practically a prime candidate for a fraudulent injury claim.
"…My condolences."
"Please, live strong and with purpose."
"…By the way, what does a one-ton girl even look like?"
Now that they knew Lu Chuan's never-before-seen fiancée had pulled off a feat rivaling Xiang Yu's legendary strength at just three years old—with one hand, no less—Harry and Xiong Dezhen had no doubts about how absurd she must be. Born with monstrous strength and trained under the Extreme Martial Arts sect? Twenty years later, who knew what kind of unimaginable force she had become?
"You guys…"
Harry's sharp ears suddenly picked up a deep, rhythmic thudding amid the noisy street. His eyes flicked toward the distance, and after swallowing hard, he carefully pointed outside the window.
"…Could it be that?"
A moving mountain strode down the bustling street.
Her height—2.1 meters—wasn't too exaggerated. But the sheer presence she carried… a chest nearly two meters in circumference, a frame as solid as a fortress, and an overwhelming, awe-inspiring physique that could only be described as the embodiment of mountain and stone. Beneath those staggering proportions lay an inhuman power that sent chills down the spine.
"…I-I… I have urgent business to attend to!"
One glance out the window, and Lu Chuan's hair practically stood on end. That unmistakable build was the hallmark of Extreme Martial Arts practitioners. After all, their founder was none other than the legendary square-bodied cultivator himself.
"If anything happens to me, my dear brothers… burn extra offerings for my soul."
Tears welling in his eyes, Lu Chuan drained his bottle dry, turned without hesitation, and bolted out the door.
"Farewell, warrior!" Xiong Dezhen solemnly waved, his heart filled with complex emotions.
"…What are you getting sentimental for?" Harry gave him a sidelong glance. "Aren't all your white bear sisters over two meters tall and capable of slapping people with tens of tons of force?"
"…Oh. Yeah, that's true." Xiong Dezhen scratched his head, then let out a hearty laugh. "Well, in that case, I won't mope either. Time to hit up FeiXin and see if I can set up a date for tonight—since I don't have a match tomorrow anyway. White stockings! Heh heh!"
Wiping the drool from his mouth, Xiong Dezhen swiftly cleared the table, stuck a toothpick between his teeth, and swaggered out the door with a grin.
Both weighed over a ton. Both hit with the force of a landslide.
But the joys and sorrows of a man and a bear were not the same.
Then again, no one's joys and sorrows were ever truly the same.
"White stockings, heh heh~"
Harry, having rented a flying boat, was busy picking out a small gift for Fleur at the shopping district.
As for Lu Chuan's tank-killer of a fiancée?
Well… they'd just burn more offerings for him later.
(End of Chapter)