Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Flames Awaken (Additional Chapter for Guild Leader Rose Wildwind)

Odds of one to five for Gao Wu, while Tie Biao’s thunder martial arts are at one to 1.2—are the bookies serious? Han Yang stared at the odds displayed on his phone, unable to believe his eyes.

In the final round, Gao Wu’s opponent withdrew, allowing Gao Wu to enter the championship in peak form. Tie Biao, on the other hand, had fought bitterly to reach the finals. The championship was scheduled for nine o’clock that night. Tie Biao, with his superior experience and martial prowess, and titanium-alloy-reinforced bones, might be impressive, but against Gao Wu, he held no overwhelming advantage.

Throughout the Xuetao Cup, Gao Wu had bulldozed his way to the finals, exhibiting remarkable dominance. Of course, he hadn’t faced any truly formidable opponents—like Xu Sanhu, who mysteriously withdrew, making Gao Wu’s path to the finals less impressive.

Han Yang admired Gao Wu; he had himself been easily defeated by Bai Yushuang in the semifinals and knew firsthand her strength. Yet Bai Yushuang had been utterly crushed by Gao Wu, showcasing Gao Wu’s current power.

In Han Yang’s view, Gao Wu had a seventy to eighty percent chance of winning the Xuetao Cup.

So, did the bookies know some inside information, or were they confident they could outwit Gao Wu?

“What are you looking at so intently, Second Brother?” Yang Ru’s pretty face leaned in, and she glanced at the odds on his phone, surprised. “Those odds for Gao Wu are really high!”

She grew excited. “I’ve got five hundred thousand in New Year’s money—I’ll bet it all on Gao Wu!”

Han Yang gently tapped Yang Ru’s cheek. “Wake up. The bookies aren’t that generous. Those odds are clearly a huge trap, waiting for greedy folks like you to fall in.”

“Then should I bet on Tie Biao?” Yang Ru shook her head; the odds were too low, not worth the risk.

“If you want to try, just put two or three thousand on Gao Wu for fun,” Han Yang said, looking down at the ring, where staff were still doing various checks.

The stands were already full, half of the audience made up of high school students.

All the students of Dongjiang regarded Gao Wu as an idol. With Gao Wu in the finals, the numbers in the Hot-Blooded Youth Club had soared. Any local student who could, had come to the martial arts arena to watch live.

Students might not earn much, but their spending power was decent—especially during the New Year, when everyone had extra cash. Parents encouraged their children to learn from Gao Wu, and supported them attending.

This year’s finals tickets had tripled in price, with scalpers everywhere—a sight unseen in previous years.

Han Yang and Yang Ru’s family had some influence, allowing them to secure the best seats.

To match the atmosphere, they wore red jackets and waved little red flags. Yang Ru’s leg had nearly been broken by Gao Wu; she still held a bit of resentment against him.

But having lost to Gao Wu, Yang Ru now hoped he would win the championship—then losing to him wouldn’t be so embarrassing. She could simply blame her luck for facing the champion!

The Xuetao Cup had been held fifty times, but this was the first time a high school student had reached the finals—a tremendous encouragement to all young people, especially since Gao Wu was a local from Dongjiang.

Han Yang hoped Gao Wu would win; just days before, he’d wanted to challenge him, but now understood the gap between them.

It wasn’t submission, merely recognition of reality—the road ahead was long, and Gao Wu had helped him see that clearly, which was valuable.

Suddenly, someone began singing “Youth Has Its Wildness” in the stands, and soon the whole arena was joining in, red flags waving in rhythm, the atmosphere growing fiery.

Resting in the lounge, Gao Wu heard the singing outside, and softly hummed along.

Shen Yue filmed video content with his phone, careful not to let Song Mingyue appear in the shot.

Song Mingyue flipped through her notes, speaking quietly. “Tie Biao underwent skeletal enhancement surgery, using advanced nano-titanium technology. He hunted beasts for ten years, so his combat experience is formidable.

“He specializes in Black Tiger Fist—you must be wary of his tiger claws, sharp as blades. Guard your eyes and neck…”

Hearing her tactical advice, Shen Yue obediently shut off his phone and retreated to open his music app backstage. He didn’t understand any of this, nor was he qualified to join the discussion, so he focused on his own tasks.

Gao Wu bounced and shadow-boxed, adjusting his state. These intense, consecutive tournaments suited him perfectly.

He thought about how winning the championship would bring two million, along with the Prajna Serum, and several million from the bookies—a rush of excitement surged through him.

Crossing this threshold would fulfill half his goals—perhaps not a leap in social class, but certainly a vast improvement in his family’s quality of life!

“Yes, I know.” Gao Wu wasn’t too concerned; even without Song Mingyue’s reminders, he would guard those vital points carefully.

Even ordinary people are highly sensitive about their vulnerable spots, instinctively dodging attacks. Striking a peer’s weak point directly in a martial arts match is exceedingly difficult.

“The odds are still one to five. The bookies are confident they’ve got you,” Song Mingyue reminded him. “To ensure victory, they’ll definitely use some tricks.”

These words were too sensitive for Shen Yue, so Song Mingyue leaned in to whisper in Gao Wu’s ear.

“What kind of tricks do you think they’ll use?” Gao Wu glanced at his new Azure Dragon smartwatch—it was eight o’clock, only an hour till the match. Once he stepped onto the stage, it would be hard for them to pull anything.

“If I’m not mistaken, it’ll be your coach,” Song Mingyue said.

“If it really is him, does that mean they’re planning to sabotage me?” Gao Wu asked.

“Don’t worry,” Song Mingyue shook her head gently; she didn’t know how her grandpa’s side was progressing but trusted his skills.

A master of martial arts, commander of armies for years—he wouldn’t stumble over something so minor.

A knock sounded at the door.

Shen Yue jumped up to answer, eyes glued to his phone. Gao Wu and Song Mingyue’s intimate whispers had made him so anxious he didn’t know what to do, afraid even to look around.

Someone knocked—Shen Yue felt as if he’d been rescued, at last able to breathe.

Opening the door, he saw Coach Huang Hai, dressed in a sharp black Tang suit, looking very formal. His dark face was as grim as ever, showing not the slightest hint of a smile.

“Coach Huang…” Shen Yue feared Huang Hai from the heart; his smile stiffened instantly at the sight.

“Is Gao Wu here?” Huang Hai asked casually, not waiting for an answer as he strode into the lounge.

The lounge was small, with a few lockers, some benches, and a restroom. The room was warm and cozy.

Huang Hai spotted Gao Wu immediately—standing out in his vivid red martial arts uniform. Beside him was the Song family girl, clad in a pure white wool coat.

Though indoors, she wore black sunglasses, fully shielding her eyes.

“Coach, what brings you here?” Gao Wu greeted him warmly.

Song Mingyue merely watched Huang Hai, offering no greeting.

Huang Hai paid her no mind. He walked up to Gao Wu. “Making it to the finals is an honor for our school—and for me as your coach.

“No matter if you win the championship or not, you are our pride.”

He patted Gao Wu’s right shoulder, and for once, a rare smile appeared on his grim face.

“I owe everything to the school and my coach. I’ll do my utmost to bring glory!” Gao Wu replied smoothly, skilled at this sort of exchange.

He wasn’t just saying it for effect; reaching this stage, Huang Hai—whatever his motives—had played a significant role.

Gao Wu was surprised; he’d expected Huang Hai to persuade him to give up the championship, but instead received words of encouragement.

Yet he soon sensed something odd. Huang Hai’s pats on his shoulder felt like cold needles piercing deep, not painful, just faintly icy.

Huang Hai, having accomplished his goal, didn’t linger, offering a few more words of encouragement before leaving.

Song Mingyue looked at Gao Wu, and he nodded back, signaling his understanding. “He actually made a move directly—his methods are so crude.”

“There’s a strong aura of otherworldly energy on him,” Gao Wu whispered in Song Mingyue’s ear.

“It’s likely some secret technique of source power, bolstered by demonic force,” Song Mingyue mused. After injuring the spirit, her connection to otherworldly energies had become intermittent. She sensed a trace of abnormal energy from Huang Hai, but not as clearly as Gao Wu.

“How are you feeling?” Song Mingyue asked.

“No problem, give me a few minutes and I’ll take care of it,” Gao Wu said.

Huang Hai’s underhanded tactics weren’t forceful; Gao Wu was confident he could use the Azure Dragon Spirit Mantra to purge any negative energy from his body.

Shen Yue grew increasingly uneasy—they were practically whispering in each other’s ears. Couldn’t they spare him a bit…

At eight forty-five, several staff members led Gao Wu, Song Mingyue, and Shen Yue through the corridor.

At the exit, a group of youths waited. Seeing Gao Wu, they rushed forward in excitement, only to be held back by staff.

The leader, a blond-haired youth, shouted, “Saint Gao, you are the pride of Dongjiang’s youth, our god! Please win the championship, please!”

His voice was loud, his face flushed with passion. The others were just as fervent, all yelling, “Saint Gao must win!”

Gao Wu was moved—he’d never seen such fanatic fans. He clenched his fist in salute to the youths. “We hot-blooded youngsters will always strive for first place!”

The crowd grew even more excited. The blond youth broke through the staff’s blockade, grabbing Gao Wu’s arm and shouting, “Saint Gao, you must win, you must win! Our hearts are with you!”

“We will win,” Gao Wu replied, deeply inspired by their passion, making a solemn promise.

Dragged back by staff, the blond youth refused to leave. He knelt, crying out, “Saint Gao, for the countless hot-blooded youths, you must win, you must win!”

Tears streamed down his face as he sang, “Youth has its wildness, a heart blazing like the sun…”

Other youths looked surprised at first, but seeing his fervor, they too were swept up, singing loudly.

It was as if devotees had seen their god—displaying a passion both wild and reverent.

Gao Wu glanced back; the blond youth’s outpouring of emotion touched him deeply, igniting his own fighting spirit.

Song Mingyue whispered in his ear, “Don’t be too moved—he’s probably bet all his New Year’s money on you…”

Gao Wu laughed, finding it all quite reasonable.

He gazed upon the sea of red in the arena, the faces of passionate youths, knowing they loved not him, but the Gao Wu in their hearts.

Ultimately, they saw him as a vessel for their dreams, a symbol of youthful fervor.

At this moment, distinctions didn’t matter. His goal and theirs were the same—victory.

Gao Wu murmured, “Let our minds unite, win the championship, and together etch this spirited time into our lives!”