“Uh…” Those from the Balerno martial arts alliance were stunned to see Fatty fall into the lake.
It would have been fine if he wanted to show off, but how could he fall in? This was a tournament, for goodness’ sake, not a circus performance!
This was utterly embarrassing for the Balerno martial arts alliance.
“That fucking loser!” Jared seethed, ashamed since he had just praised Fatty for his skills.
“Pfft! Why would he embarrass himself when he’s such a weakling?”
“Fuck off if you’re a loser. Stop humiliating yourself!”
“Are all Balerno martial artists so weak? Is this even a competition?”
Glenstead martial artists burst out in laughter and mocked.
“He was too proud.” Even Ronald was embarrassed by the sight.
After all, martial artists that were hastily chosen were no good.
“It’ll be hard to win the first match.” Paul shook his head.
Why did Fatty have to waste his true energy to show off? In the end, he embarrassed himself and depleted more than half of his true energy. How was he going to fight later?
Finally, bubbles emerged from the water, and a round face reappeared.
Embarrassed by all the laughter, Fatty forced himself to swim to the arena. He got onto the
platform, drenched in lake water.
“Damn it! I should have taken the boat!” he muttered to himself.
He’d managed to cross rivers with the same technique before, so he thought he could do the same with the lake. He didn’t expect himself to run out of true energy halfway due to the lake’s size.
“A weakling shouldn’t show off. That’s just embarrassing!” A man in red sneered as he arrived at the arena by boat, a spear in his hand.
“How dare you laugh at me! I’ll kill you!” Fatty roared.
“As if you could do that.” The man in red jumped onto the platform.
“I’ll make you regret underestimating me!” Fatty gritted his teeth.
The man in red humphed disdainfully, unfazed by Fatty’s threat. In his opinion, showoffs like Fatty weren’t worthy of stepping into this arena.
He’d be disappointed if all Balerno martial artists were like this.
Just then, a bell rang from afar to signal the start of the match.
According to the rules, the match would start when the bell rang the third time. From there onward, the fighters’ life depended on their skills.
Soon, the bell rang another two times.
“You’re dead meat!”
Fatty attacked as soon as the bell rang for the third time. With a wave of his arm, countless darts shot toward the man in red.
