Chapter 62: Class Eight Battle I
Hockey rinks were one thing. Football stadiums were a rank above that. A stadium of Valhalla’s Colosseum was an entirely different beast. The deafening roar of the crowd swept the world, a sea of eager spectators waving flags and banners. In the highest reaches of the stadium sat Dasha, Rehan, and Salah.
Frank too, because somehow, Rehan convinced him to tag along.
Peering down at the common masses, with a single look, Dasha could tell these people had put a steak on the battle.
Dasha put a fist to his cheek. "Who did you bet for?"
"I don’t bet," Rehan replied. "Ooh, ooh, here they come."
From the tunnels, two figures walked. A casual, almost humble strut, yet Dasha’s Qi went into a spiral at the sight of them. On the left was a crowned man that could only be described as ethereal. Robes woven by a white fabric and embroidered with gold threads spelling out celestial motifs. His sleeves connected, the Imperial Crown of the Qing Dynasty era atop his head, he stopped and waited.
To his opposite was a sword-wielder. A flamboyant man with an open smile, a condescending look, and a striking sword at his waist, accompanied by the long, flowing crimson hair that cascaded down to said waist.
An attractive man that garnered a concerning amount of attention from the ladies. A single scar went down his lip and his eyes were redder than his hair, sharp and almost feral too.
"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and eccentric characters, welcome to the most exquisite showdown of the century! Is there any need for introductions? Any need for a reason? In one corner, we have the Emperor himself, leader of the Imperial Sect, the master of secrets! And challenging him is Li Tianlu, the rising martial artist of the Golden Generation! A Sect Leader versus a Great Elder! Who will prevail?"