Chapter 3801 — Nearly Vomiting Blood
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
"These two again?" Hu Yunfeng came over at the news and, looking at Qiao Hongcai and Meng Zhou on the platform, both of them battered and bloody, was struck speechless on the spot.
He and Meng Jiuming exchanged a glance, but this time Hu Yunfeng had no room left to confer with Meng Jiuming in private.
After all, the same situation had already arisen in the previous round; to preserve his shining image of impartiality, he, the Pavilion Master of the Greeting Pavilion, could only follow the ruling he had laid down last round.
Otherwise, the moment he changed his tune, the very position he had announced just one round ago would be slapped down by his own hand this round—and once word of that got out, it would be not merely a joke, but a joke that interested parties could ferment and simmer until heaven knew what storms it stirred up.
Though Meng Jiuming had now thrown in his lot with Young Master Xu, and Hu Yunfeng did indeed harbor some thought of drawing him in, the precondition was that it must not affect his own prospects; otherwise, when his own future was at stake, to say nothing of a mere Meng Jiuming, even Young Master Xu's face was not something he would necessarily spare.
Clearing his throat, Hu Yunfeng announced, "Though both sides of this duel have suffered grievous injury, in accordance with the precedent from the previous round, where the challenger was judged the victor, I, as Pavilion Master, hereby declare that the winner of this factory challenge tournament is—Qiao Hongcai, of Cave Dwelling Thirteen at the foot of the mountain."
At these words, Meng Jiuming's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot. He had spent precious capital to feed Meng Zhou a fourth-grade Great Return Pill, and not only had the boy failed to kill Qiao Hongcai, but the other side had turned his own trick back upon him, snatching back four points and claiming the victory outright!
Such a miserable business—just thinking about it was enough to make Meng Jiuming nearly spew a mouthful of old blood.
One had to understand that this duel had not merely been a contest of superiority between Meng Zhou and Qiao Hongcai; the two of them equally represented the face of Meng Jiuming and the face of Wei Zhao.
Meng Zhou, the most capable of Meng Jiuming's new recruits, had lost to a mere underling of Wei Zhao's—so where was the steward senior brother Meng Jiuming supposed to put his face?
But the matter was already settled; however suffocated Meng Jiuming felt, he did not dare raise any objection to Hu Yunfeng's words in public.
After all, Hu Yunfeng was likewise one of Young Master Xu's men, backed by the same patron; his standing and strength were far above Meng Jiuming's, and he was, moreover, his direct superior. Who answered to whom was plain at a glance. Had Meng Jiuming failed to grasp even this, he could never have earned Young Master Xu's favor in the first place.
The same Qiao Hongcai and Meng Zhou, the same mutual ruin—last round Hu Yunfeng had black-heartedly ruled Meng Zhou the winner, and barely three days later he had met his comeuppance on the spot. The irony of the scene was exquisite.
If in the previous round Qiao Hongcai's being judged the loser had drawn a measure of sighs from those present, then now, with the same fate befalling Meng Zhou, the crowd felt not the least sense of injustice; instead, they had a vague sense that this slap in the face was deeply satisfying.
One must not forget that these new recruits had all nominally thrown in their lot under Meng Jiuming's banner, belonging to the same camp as Meng Zhou—only that Meng Zhou, the self-styled leader of the new recruits, was simply too foul in character and too poor in standing.
Not only did Li Zhengming, whom he had repeatedly fleeced, refuse to submit to him, but the other new recruits likewise gave him no purchase. If Meng the Great Newcomer ever learned of this outcome, heaven only knew what he would make of it.