After Reston returned to his seat, he continued waiting for the battles to unfold. Many of the competitors showed impressive strength, and several potential talents stood out—enough to make the military high command feel that the future was not only bright, but blazing like the sun itself.
Because there were so many contestants, Reston had to wait nearly two hours before he was called up again.
"Qin Wenyang, Body Tempering Stage 13. Please advise."
"Reston, Martial Warrior Stage 6. Please advise."
After both sides introduced themselves on stage, the match officially began. Qin Wenyang had watched Reston's previous fight, so he knew that Reston's strength was undeniably terrifying. He didn't plan to attack first, instead choosing to observe and find an opening.
Reston, on the other hand, wondered when his opponent would finally make a move. And just as he thought that—Qin Wenyang moved, lunging forward with a sword aimed directly at Reston's waist. But Reston was no amateur; in an instant, he swung his blade horizontally to block. He originally planned to counter with a strike that would send his opponent flying just like before—but Qin Wenyang released his weapon at the very moment of impact, using the recoil to stay on the platform. His quick thinking and reflexes drew murmurs of admiration from the audience—and even from Reston himself.
Reston thought Qin Wenyang would panic without his weapon, yet the man's calm expression remained unchanged. That made Reston curious—what else was he hiding?
Qin Wenyang suddenly moved again, this time with his bare fists.
"Meteor Fist!" Qin Wenyang shouted, throwing a powerful punch. Reston met it with a punch of his own.
"What—?!" Qin Wenyang's eyes widened. Even a Martial Warrior wouldn't dare take this blow head-on! But Reston had countered it with nothing but an ordinary straight punch, blasting him backward through sheer force. If not for his quick reflexes and the strength in his legs, Qin Wenyang would've been sent flying off the stage.
"That didn't send him out?" Reston muttered. He'd deliberately held back, not wanting to injure anyone, yet the man still managed to resist the blow.
Qin Wenyang realized it too—his opponent's power and reaction speed completely crushed him. So he made up his mind: no more holding back! He'd fight with everything he had, even if it meant injury!
In an instant, Qin Wenyang exploded forward again, pulling a second sword from his back—his hidden weapon of last resort.
"Aria Waltz!" he shouted. Reston couldn't help but think, What kind of dramatic name is that supposed to be? But before he could finish the thought, a dazzling blade thrust straight toward his head. He tilted his head to dodge and countered with a flash of lightning speed, his Skyrend Blade sweeping horizontally across Qin Wenyang's waist. Still, Reston didn't want to hurt him, so he struck with the back of the blade.
Qin Wenyang was sent hurtling backward by the immense force, froth spilling from his mouth as he lost consciousness midair. If the referee hadn't caught him in time, he would've slammed into the ground and probably broken a few bones.
"Winner of this match—Reston! Advances to the next round!" the referee declared.
The crowd immediately erupted into cheers and applause. Reston was just too strong! Once again, he tugged his hood low and hurried back to his seat.
In the following matches, Reston knew his opponents would only get stronger, so he didn't take them lightly. Yet, every single one of them was sent flying by a single strike—a casual horizontal sweep of his blade's dull edge—each one frothing at the mouth and losing consciousness on the spot. Without exception.
By the time the tournament reached the top four—
"Yan Wuyou versus Reston! Both contestants, please step onto the stage!"
The crowd exploded with excitement, and even the military's high-ranking officers leaned forward to watch intently. One side was the most brilliant young genius of the military, already renowned as the strongest prodigy; the other, a mysterious dark horse who had crushed every opponent with a single blow. Who would prevail?
"Yan Wuyou, Martial Warrior Stage 3."
"Reston, Martial Warrior Stage 6."
Even the referee couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation—their strength was unquestionable.
"3! 2! 1! Begin!"
Reston immediately shifted into his battle stance. Yan Wuyou's name had been echoing in his head all afternoon like an annoying chant, so he decided to take this one seriously.
Yan Wuyou, however, stood calm and composed, every motion radiating the pride of a genius. Both waited for the other to move, and for several long seconds, neither attacked.
"What are you two doing?! Start fighting already!" a spectator yelled from the stands.
Once one voice broke the silence, others followed—
"Quiet!"
A single low word from the military's high command thundered across the arena like a divine roar.
"That's... the power of a Martial Saint?" Reston thought to himself. Realizing there was no point in waiting any longer, he decided to make the first move. A bolt of lightning surged around him as he swung his blade.
"Thunder Dragon!"
"Celestial Star Sword Art!" Yan Wuyou roared, slashing forward.
At first, he thought Reston was just some overhyped show-off—but the moment their attacks collided, he realized how wrong he was.
The difference in power was absurd, like an ant charging against an elephant.
Even after unleashing his Celestial Star Sword Art, Yan Wuyou was sent flying backward by that single strike.
The referee who caught him midair couldn't believe the sheer force behind it—and Reston stood there, completely calm, as if the attack hadn't cost him any energy at all.
Yan Wuyou tried to protest, insisting that Reston had attacked first, but the referee—who was himself a Martial Venerable—saw it clearly. Reston hadn't even used his full strength. In fact, he had deliberately held back to avoid hurting him.
"Winner: Reston! Advances to the final round!"
The arena fell silent for a brief heartbeat, then erupted in an even greater wave of cheers and screams. The high-ranking officers of the military couldn't stay seated any longer, immediately ordering this match to be logged and archived.
"One-hit knockout? Against Yan Wuyou?! What kind of power is that?" one commander exclaimed.
"There's no way he hasn't practiced the Body Tempering manual. No Martial Warrior could do that otherwise. This boy—he's a genius on par with the Dragon Martial God himself!" another replied.
Reston didn't react to the praise. After his match, he didn't bother stepping down from the stage—he simply stood there, waiting for the final battle to begin.
Remember to check out the author's words!