What Would You Do If An Ugly Woman Asked You To Dual Cultivate?-Chapter 50: First Round of Tournament

The tournament grounds stretched wide beneath the sky. The coliseum's tiered seats brimmed with thousands of spectators, their cheers and gasps rolling like thunder across the stone.

Yang Hao stood at the combatants' terrace, arms folded, his eyes sweeping the around. Young cultivators, no older than twenty were clashing in the arena, their techniques erupting in bursts of color and sound, dust spiraling in their wake.

His gaze snagged on a figure that was impossible to ignore.

The bald, scarred woman moved with lethal elegance, her combat robe clinging to her like a second skin. The fabric stretched taut over her powerful frame, hugging every curve with unforgiving precision. Her full, rounded breast strained against the robe's confines, the outline of her ample breasts unmistakable even from a distance.

The garment cinched at her narrow waist, flaring out to accentuate broad hips that shifted with each step, her muscled legs flexing beneath the tight pants.

Yang Hao's mind flickered back to their Arena fight. His face had landed square against those plush, generous breasts, their softness was the, a stark contrast to her icy aura. The memory lingered: the warmth of her curves pressed against him, her faint scent of frost and sweat flooding his senses.

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Yu Ruyi who sensed it, teased, "Are you thinking of getting another opportunity to land on those things? Pervert? But who can blame you? they must have felt like heaven, don't they?"

Yang Hao's expression didn't flicker. "It was a fight, not a fantasy. Focus," he shot back silently, his tone flat, brushing off the tease as if it were dust on his sleeve. However, he felt happy, for the past few days, Yu Ruyi teased him and talk more than before. A improvement in the relationship. As for Navrita, then she mostly stay silent.

"Tch... Boring," Yu Ruyi said and then stopped speaking.

The referee's voice was loud, "Seventy match of the elimination round: Xu Qingyan versus Fang Liyun!"

Yang Hao saw that it was Xu Qingyan who moved. So her name is... Xu Qingyan.

Her opponent, a wiry girl with flowing dark hair and a smug grin, stepped onto the stone platform. Fang Liyun twirled twin daggers, their blades catching the light as she flexed her wrists. She radiated confidence—too much for her own good.

The gong rang out.

Xu Qingyan didn't charge. She stood rooted, hands relaxed at her sides, watching as Fang Liyun lunged, daggers carving swift arcs through the air. The crowd leaned forward, anticipating a flurry of violence. But Xu Qingyan shifted—a single, precise step—and the blades sliced nothing. Fang Liyun faltered, off-kilter, and in that heartbeat, Xu Qingyan struck. Her fist slammed into the girl's chest with a muted crack, hurling Fang Liyun backward. She skidded to the platform's edge, rolled once, and lay still.

Six seconds flat.

A murmur of awe rippled through the stands, swelling into cheers. Xu Qingyan stepped off the platform, her face a mask of indifference, and vanished into the crowd of fighters without a glance back.

Yang Hao's lips quirked slightly. She hadn't even tapped her Ice Element—just pure, honed skill.

---

"Next match: Yang Hao versus Chen Tao!"

Yang Hao exhaled, and strode to the platform. His opponent awaited—a broad-shouldered youth with a shaved head, hefting a bulky axe over one shoulder. Chen Tao grinned, swinging the weapon like it was an extension of his swagger.

"Ready to lose?" Chen Tao taunted, voice brimming with bravado.

Yang Hao didn't bother replying. He stepped onto the stone, hands still in his pockets, stance loose.

The gong sounded.

Chen Tao barreled forward, axe cleaving the air in a wide, chest-high arc. The crowd held its breath, expecting evasion or flair. Instead, Yang Hao stepped into the strike. His hand darted out, palm meeting the axe haft mid-swing. The metal creaked as he twisted, yanking it free from Chen Tao's grip. Before the stunned fighter could blink, Yang Hao's elbow cracked into his jaw. The sound rang out, and Chen Tao dropped, out cold before he hit the ground.

Three seconds.

Cheers exploded, mingled with stunned whispers. Yang Hao flicked the axe aside, letting it clank against the stone, and walked off without a second glance. It barely qualified as a warm-up.