RBCT Chapter 198 Everyone Stands Up
Chapter 198 Everyone Stands Up
After half an hour.
The giant electronic screen at the highest point of the north stand of the arena simultaneously switched images.
The host's booming voice resounded above the heads of 120,000 audience members.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the semifinals of the 37th Great Xia Martial Arts High School League are here: Tianhai University versus Shangjing University!"
120,000 people cheered at the same time.
The sound waves poured down from the stands and crashed onto the ring.
Five members of the team from Beijing University walked out from the north passage, with Ye Beichen leading the way.
The fans in the stands erupted in deafening screams. It was a home game, and out of 120,000 people, 90,000 were citizens and students from Beijing.
Four people from Tianhai University stepped onto the stage.
Su Wanning led the way, her twin swords already drawn, while Liang Zian followed behind, carrying two shields. The shields slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.
Xu Xiaotang clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and a pale green healing light shone from her palms.
There was another team member at the back, a mid-level fourth-tier player.
Some people in the stands started making a fuss.
"Why does Tianhai only have four?"
"Is there no one left just because Han Zhongming is injured?"
"Four fourth-tier fighters against five from the capital, what's the point of fighting?"
Han Zhongming stood at the entrance of the waiting area, his fists clenched, and looked up at the sky again, but there was still no sign of the spaceship.
The referee walked to the center of the ring and raised his right hand.
At that very moment, the host's voice rang out again.
This time, his tone changed, from the passionate tone of commentating on the game to a respectful and solemn one.
"Please all stand up."
The cheers of 120,000 people came to an abrupt halt, much to their bewilderment.
The referee's hand froze in mid-air. Ye Beichen suddenly turned his head and looked at the eastern sky.
"Honorary Councilor of Great Xia, Councilor Song Chen, will soon be attending and inspecting this match."
The host spoke slowly, and the entire audience fell silent.
Meanwhile, a council-owned spaceship was descending through the clouds above the eastern side of the arena.
The roar of the engines drowned out all the noise in the arena, and the airflow from under the ship's hull made the flags around the arena flutter loudly.
120,000 people stood up.
No one applauded, no one shouted slogans.
120,000 people stood there quietly, watching the spaceship slowly land on the dedicated helipad on the east side of the arena.
The citizens of Kamijing base city know the rules: when a councilor arrives, no matter who you are, you must stand up first.
This is a rule that the Great Xia Dynasty has earned with blood over the past fifty years; every councilor is a pillar supporting humanity's defenses.
The hatch opened.
Song Chen slowly walked out.
He was wearing the Tianhai University team uniform, with the Tianjun Blade strapped to his back.
120,000 eyes were fixed on him.
The images on the giant electronic screen switched simultaneously.
All four large screens were pointed at the east-side helipad.
Song Chen's face appeared on the screen, an eighteen-year-old face, unbelievably young.
But the emblem of Tianhai University was clearly printed on the left chest of his team uniform.
Some people in the stands gasped; some dropped their drinks; some stood up and forgot to sit down, just standing there with their mouths agape.
Is this an official visit or something else?
In the waiting area of Tianhai University, Han Zhongming stared at the big screen, clenched his left fist, slammed it against the wall, and burst into laughter, his voice trembling with a sob: "They're here! They're really here, fucking!"
On the opposite half of the court, all five players from Beijing University were stunned.
Ye Beichen, standing at the very front, looked at the person wearing the Tianhai team uniform on the big screen, and his pupils suddenly contracted.
He could sense that the opponent's vital energy was not as strong as his.
But he found that his body was not relaxed; the hairs on his back stood on end, and the muscles in his shoulders were tense.
That was instinct; the fighting instinct of a fifth-tier martial artist screamed.
He had seen too many powerful individuals, from the peak of the fifth rank to the sixth rank grandmaster; he knew more than one of them.
But even hundreds of meters away, separated by the alloy plate of the arena, the blade's intent pressed down on his throat, as if the blade of the Heavenly Blade had already touched his skin, not yet cutting down, but every inch of his skin was screaming.
That's more than just the intent of the sword.
That was a murderous aura that naturally adhered to the blade after killing countless high-level alien beasts.
Ye Beichen loosened his fingers and then clenched them again; his fingertips were terribly cold.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
His four teammates were all looking at him.
"Captain... how do we fight this?" The teammate closest to him had just spoken.
Ye Beichen raised his hand to interrupt, his hand pausing in mid-air before he lowered it, his voice dry: "Don't speak, he's here."
Song Chen stepped down the last step of the gangway and onto the arena floor.
The 120,000 people were completely silent.
He looked up at his face on the four giant electronic screens, then walked towards the arena.
The eyes of 120,000 people followed him, as if they were being pulled by an invisible thread.
He nodded to Han Zhongming as he passed the waiting area.
"Take good care of yourself and recover well." His tone was very calm.
Han Zhongming paused for a second, then nodded solemnly.
Song Chen stepped onto the ring.
Su Wanning stepped aside, giving him her place.
Liang Zian moved the shield a step to the side, and Xu Xiaotang lowered her head, not daring to look at him. The spiritual light in her palm flickered.
Song Chen stood at the very front of the Tianhai University team, holding the Tianjun Blade horizontally in his left hand, his right hand empty.
Twenty meters away, Ye Beichen was staring at him.
Song Chen glanced at him.
Just one glance.
Ye Beichen felt like he had been seen through.
It wasn't the Eye of Truth; Song Chen hadn't activated any special abilities. It was just a simple glance, like sweeping across a strange beast blocking his path on the snowy plains of the Northern Plains.
In Song Chen's eyes, this former number one genius of the Great Xia Dynasty was no different from the beast kings he had killed in the Northern Plains.
Ye Beichen suddenly realized that his fingers were trembling slightly and uncontrollably.
He clenched his fists to try to stop it, but the trembling seemed to have its own will, creeping up his wrist from his fingertips and he couldn't suppress it no matter what he did.
His health points were 17,000, which was higher than the person opposite him wearing the Tianjin Tianhai team uniform.
But data means nothing to Song Chen.
Images kept popping into his head uncontrollably.
Outside the city gate of Qinghu Base, the lightning field carved a charred black path through the beast horde, and a fifth-tier upper-level bladed dragon lizard was killed with a single strike.
On the snowy plains of the Northern Plains, the head of the Sirius Clan commander flew into the air, and pure white blade energy pierced through the entire battlefield.
A beast tide of hundreds of thousands was cut down by one man, and the entire army collapsed.
He watched the video online, and after watching it, he couldn't sleep all night. He watched it again the next day, and again the third day.
Those images are all rushing back now, like venomous snakes coiling around his spine and climbing upwards.
Song Chen glanced at him, just once, very indifferently, without any expression.
Ye Beichen read something he had never seen before in that look: not arrogance, not contempt, but a sense of distance.
It's a habitual action of a swordsman who's used to killing beast kings, sizing up a target and estimating whether one strike is enough.
His fingers trembled even more violently.