“Looking like that, and his skin is still smooth and fine?” Qiao Mu frowned. “That really is hard to imagine—him being the foremost Thunder King.”

“By the way, Jiu’er, you saw him in person earlier, didn’t you? Did you two fight?”

“We didn’t,” Feng Jiu’er said, shaking her head. “We talked. No fighting. But his martial skill is no joke.”

If it really was him, his internal energy shouldn’t have been anywhere near this strong—unless he’d undergone some inhuman training these past months, or something else had happened.

But those eyes really did resemble his. And he had recognized her voice.

“You talked?” Qiao Mu looked puzzled again.

“Qiao Mu.” Feng Jiu’er looked at her, then let her gaze drop back to the scroll.

“And you too, Jian Yi—take a good look. Who does the person in this painting resemble? I’m certain he wears a human-skin mask; this isn’t his real face.”

“Jian Yi saw him too. Did neither of you really feel he looked like someone we know?”

“Looks like who?” Qiao Mu snatched up the scroll, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the portrait.

After a moment, she shook her head. “Jiu’er, are you sure it’s someone we both know? I don’t have any impression of him at all.”

“No matter how I look at it, I just don’t recognize him.”

Qiao Mu muttered to herself for a while, then set the scroll down in front of Jian Yi.

“I don’t know him! And honestly, I don’t know that many people from the Feng Clan to begin with. Jiu’er, is this someone you know, but I don’t?”

“Jiu’er, are you thinking it’s the Third Prince?” Jian Yi glanced at the scroll, then lifted his eyes to Feng Jiu’er.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded.

“What?” Qiao Mu snatched the scroll up again. “He looks like… Feng Jiang?”

“You can say it a little louder, you know,” Feng Jiu’er said, glancing at Qiao Mu.

“Earlier, I deliberately tested him by using my own voice. He was clearly hiding his reaction.”

Qiao Mu set down the scroll and stared at Feng Jiu’er. “Are you certain it’s him?”

“I’m not!” Feng Jiu’er shook her head. “His face is different, his voice is different, even his internal energy feels different from before.”

“But I think it’s him. Don’t you both think the eyes look quite similar?”

Qiao Mu glanced once more at the scroll, then stood.

“How am I supposed to tell anything from just a painting? Forget it, I’ll go take a look myself.”

“Qiao Mu.” Feng Jiu’er caught the hand of the person trying to leave her side. “If it really is him, his staying here must mean he has some mission of his own.”

“For his safety, this isn’t something we can bring up right now.”

Only now did Feng Jiu’er realize just how careless she had been earlier.

He’d been right—if this got out, it would be bad for everyone.

Qiao Mu took a deep breath and pulled her hand free from Feng Jiu’er’s grip.

“Jiu’er.” She sat back down beside her. “How sure are you, that it’s really him?”

“Eighty percent,” Feng Jiu’er answered without hesitation. “Don’t think too much about it. Go get some rest—there’s still work to do tomorrow.”

“But, I…” Qiao Mu frowned.

“Small impatience ruins great plans,” Feng Jiu’er said, her voice firm.

She patted Qiao Mu’s shoulder and stood up.

“If it’s him, he’s not going anywhere. If it’s not, you rushing over there now will only ruin everything.”

Seeing that Qiao Mu had nothing more to say, Feng Jiu’er let out a soft sigh.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I understand,” Qiao Mu said, standing and heading toward her room. “Don’t worry, I know what matters more.”

Over the following seven days, Jian Yi and Feng Jiu’er seemed to slip out every day and return every night.

No one at Lei Teng noticed anything out of the ordinary.

On the eighth day, the grand day of the championship match for the title of foremost Thunder King finally arrived.

Word had it that some martial arts fanatic from who-knew-where had demanded a direct challenge against Bao Lei.

Given the importance of the occasion, the Lei Teng Inn threw open its gates, allowing anyone from the first three zones to come and go freely.

That day, Feng Jiu’er, Jian Yi, and Qiao Mu left early in the morning.

The three of them moved through several locations, changing their disguises along the way, before arriving at the Li City branch of Dragon Shadow.

This wasn’t Feng Jiu’er’s first visit—over the past several days, she had returned here almost daily to handle matters.

The three of them went back to Dragon Shadow, changed into the attire befitting their identities within the organization, and set out once more.

Jian Yi looked much the same, only somewhat more tanned.

Qiao Mu, this time, had dressed up as a young noble gentleman, carrying a folding fan.

Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao had applied human-skin masks and pinned up their hair, transforming themselves into two proper noblewomen.

Jian Yi and Feng Jiu’er walked in front, with Qiao Mu and Xiao Yingtao following behind, the four of them looking like two married couples.

The championship match for foremost Thunder King was held at the largest arena in Li City, an open-air ring not far from the Lei Teng Inn.

Given the importance of today’s event, Black Panther Lei Shenbao had brought along a full hundred guards to secure the site.

The guards were stationed not only around the ring itself but also along the rows of seats set up in front of it.

As the match was about to begin, those rows of seats were already packed, and the crowd behind them—and on the other three sides of the ring—was just as dense.

Just as the match was about to start, Feng Jiu’er and her three companions finally managed to push their way to the front of the crowd.

The ring stood directly before them, and behind them sat the rows of filled seats.

“Jiu’er, the man sitting dead center, dressed in bright red, is Lei Shenbao,” Xiao Yingtao murmured into Feng Jiu’er’s ear.

Feng Jiu’er nodded and kept her gaze fixed on the most conspicuously dressed man.

“Lei Shenbao really does love watching others fight for their lives,” Qiao Mu’s voice came from behind her.

“I heard that every time he comes to watch a match, he always wears red—as if he were about to take a bride.”

“Pervert,” Xiao Yingtao muttered, clearly disgusted.

Feng Jiu’er studied the man for a moment longer before turning her gaze away.

“Now presenting today’s two contestants,” a voice called out from the ring.

“First up is our foremost Thunder King—Bao Lei!”

The moment the man’s words fell, a tall figure emerged from the crowd, passing right by Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao before climbing onto the stage.

As Bao Lei passed, Qiao Mu gripped Feng Jiu’er’s shoulder.

Feng Jiu’er gently patted the back of her hand in response.

After Bao Lei climbed up, another man emerged from the other side and stepped onto the stage.

Bao Lei was tall, with a warm, scholarly bearing, and was far from frail.

His opponent, however, was noticeably even taller and broader—massive enough to be called gigantic.

The two men came to stand at the center of the ring, one on each side, and stopped.

“Ha!” The moment the challenger came to a halt, he stamped his foot hard against the ground.

His sheer strength was such that the impact of his foot against the floor could be heard by nearly everyone present.

Watching this bare-chested man, his body rippling with excess flesh, Feng Jiu’er was reminded of a sumo match.

This man looked almost identical to a sumo wrestler—massive, thick-set, and his whole body of flab jiggling with every step he took.

Seeing the challenger’s appearance, the crowd below began murmuring among themselves.

Beyond their curiosity about where this man had come from, many also worried whether their foremost Thunder King might actually lose this match.

Whatever the outcome, no one wanted to see some oddly dressed outsider claim the seat of foremost Thunder King—that would be far too humiliating!