Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

The sun is shining brightly.

In the center of Huayang Prefecture's drill ground.

All around, banners fluttered in the wind, the ferocious beast patterns embroidered on them billowing out.

The newly appointed prefect, Zhao Boli, stood on the platform.

Today he was wearing a fourth-rank blue robe, and the sunlight shone from behind, casting a perfectly placed shadow on his face, making it impossible to discern his emotions.

His gaze slowly swept over the dark mass of people below the stage.

More than 400 martial arts performers lined up according to their county of origin.

The surrounding crowds of onlookers, as well as wandering martial arts practitioners who had rushed over upon hearing the news, packed the three sides of the training ground with people.

Zhao Boli's gaze finally settled on Wu Changning's face.

Wu Changning stood at the front of the line, dressed in a plain robe with a sword hanging at his waist.

The surrounding noise seemed irrelevant to him; he simply lowered his eyes and stared at the square blue bricks in front of him.

Zhao Boli recalled Wu Bin's death, the theft of his body, and even the theft of his family's accounting office; it was indeed a tragic situation.

He withdrew his gaze, his expression returning to indifference.

He channeled his inner strength, his voice booming like a bell, drowning out the clamor of the entire arena.

"The martial arts examination of Huayang Prefecture is hereby announced and shall now begin!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the whole audience cheered.

Zhao Boli did not pause.

He glanced around, cleared his throat, and said again:

"The Wu family suffered a great calamity. The thieves not only murdered the prefect of Wubin, but also stole the Marrow Cleansing Pill and looted all the valuables in the mansion."

The case is serious, and this government has ordered a thorough investigation.

He paused.

"Therefore, the reward of the Marrow Cleansing Pill for the top prize in this martial arts examination is cancelled."

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured into a pot of boiling oil.

The audience erupted in uproar.

But soon, the commotion took a turn for the worse.

Because not many people were truly disappointed; most were secretly delighted.

Many contestants exchanged knowing glances, each seeing the hint of smugness on the other's lips, before quickly lowering their eyes.

"Good thing it was canceled."

Someone in the crowd spoke in a low voice, but it was loud enough to carry: "It was originally someone else's stuff, let's just watch the show."

"Exactly, with Young Master Wu being a Xiantian (innate) cultivator, is there any suspense about who will win first place?"

"That's good, nobody gets it, that's fair."

"Fairness, fairness, Lord Zhao is the most just..."

Whispers spread like wildfire.

Some people couldn't help but glance at Wu Changning, their eyes filled with sympathy, schadenfreude, and a hint of secret pleasure.

Wu Changning remained motionless.

He stood there, his eyes lowered, like a clay sculpture that had not yet been consecrated.

The surrounding chatter irritated him, and he gripped the lacquered scabbard at his waist until it burned.

He never even considered getting the Marrow Cleansing Pill.

He hated the thief who stole his father's body even more.

Thinking about this, he became even angrier.

But now even my father's body is nowhere to be found.

Wu Changning's knuckles gradually turned white.

He didn't look up.

He was afraid that if he looked up, the hot tears in his eyes would be impossible to hold back.

Lin Feng stood in the middle of the queue and took in the whole scene.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, somewhat surprised.

Zhao Boli was quite straightforward; he canceled the Marrow Cleansing Pill without hesitation, offering only half a perfunctory excuse.

But upon closer reflection, it's not surprising.

The Marrow Cleansing Pill was a prize promised by Wu Bin before his death. Now that Wu Bin's body is barely cold and the treasury has been emptied, even if Zhao Boli wanted to fulfill his promise, he wouldn't be able to produce anything.

Perhaps the sunlight was too bright, but Lin Feng lowered his head, suppressing his inappropriate guilt.

On stage, Zhao Boli did not give the crowd any more time to discuss.

He raised his hand, and two shirtless, burly men beside him swung their drumsticks and slammed them down heavily on the large cowhide drum.

thump -- thump -- thump --

The deep, resonant drumbeats stirred the blood of the crowd.

Once Zhao Boli was seated, a lieutenant in armor spoke in a voice that drowned out the drumbeats.

"There are a total of 407 people in this martial arts examination."

"Divided into four groups: A, B, C, and D. In the first round, each person will compete in four matches."

He took out a battle chart from his sleeve, unfolded it, and hung it on the wooden frame in the center of the arena.

It's written clearly in black and white on paper:

Group A No. 1 vs. Group B No. 1

Group A No. 1 vs. Group C No. 1

Group A No. 1 vs. Group D No. 1

Group B No. 1 vs. Group C No. 1

……

"Each martial arts student must fight one match against each of the other three groups with the same number, for a total of four matches." The adjutant spoke slowly and clearly. "The first place in each group will advance to the next round."

The remaining three were eliminated immediately.

Someone in the audience raised their hand: "Sir, if we're eliminated, we're out of luck?"

Zhao Boli glanced at him.

"Eliminaries have one chance to challenge," he said calmly. "They can challenge players ranked higher than themselves, but they must fight one by one. Only at the end are they qualified to challenge the top ten."

Upon hearing this, a buzz of discussion arose again among the crowd.

"This is too difficult."

"Nonsense, you were eliminated because you weren't good enough, and you still want to turn things around? How is that possible?"

"At least give them a way to survive."

As Lin Feng listened, he had already mentally reviewed the rules.

The first round eliminated 300 people, which is indeed a high elimination rate.

"Martial arts students from each county, step forward and draw your number."

Four constables carried a long table covered with red silk to the foot of the platform.

On the table was a sandalwood tray, on which were densely packed wooden plaques, all with their backs facing up, and all of the same size and shape.

Lin Feng glanced at it; it was no different from the emperor choosing a concubine.

The queue moved forward slowly.

The martial arts performers from each county stepped forward in turn, extended their hands, flipped over cards, announced their numbers, and recorded them.

Someone drew the top prize and was overjoyed.

The first battle, the one everyone was watching, was a prize to be won. Some drew the number Dingwei, their faces turning bitter—the last number meant they would be last, a grueling wait. Many more remained expressionless, glancing quickly at their numbers before tucking them into their pockets and returning to the queue.

It was Lin Feng's turn.

He stepped forward and casually flipped over the wooden plaque on the far right.

—A3.

Just as he was about to step back, a large head suddenly squeezed in from behind.

"Brother Lin, what's your number?"

Zhao Erniu had somehow crept up from the back of the line and was very close, his round eyes gleaming as he peered at Lin Feng's hands.

He was dark-skinned and strong, like a gorilla.

Lin Feng waved the wooden sign in front of his eyes.

"Jia San, what about you?"

Zhao Erniu, nicknamed "B2," held his wooden sign high, grinning broadly to reveal a set of white teeth. "Thank goodness, Brother Lin and I aren't in the same group!"

He patted his chest, looking terrified: "If I had run into Brother Lin in the same group, I would have been sent home in the first round."

Lin Feng smiled and said:

"You're competing in four matches, not just one. With your skill level, getting first place in Group B shouldn't be a problem."

As the two were talking, most of the people in the front queue had already been drawn.

Wu Changning was last in line.

As he stepped forward, the crowd fell silent for a few moments.

He stretched out his hand.

On the opened wooden plaque, two characters were written in vermilion lacquer—

A1.

Someone in the crowd couldn't help but let out a soft hiss.

This genius is the focus of everyone's attention.

This should have been a moment of unparalleled glory for the prefect's son.

Wu Changning stared at the two words, his face expressionless.

He handed the wooden plaque back to the clerk who recorded the names, turned around, and walked back to the queue.

-

Lin Feng looked away.

As the sun gradually rises, the drums begin to beat again.

All four hundred license plates were registered and the four match-up charts were filled to the brim.

Zhao Boli took one last look at the audience.

"The first round of the martial arts competition begins," his voice was as calm and unhurried as ever.

Looking at the more than four hundred young faces, he paused and then said again:

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, and I hope you will give it your all."

The entire audience stood in solemn silence.