The pace of Phase Three accelerated fast.
Once the initial chaos passed, the gap showed itself clearly. Students from lower academies began falling one after another. Some lost cleanly. Some lost badly. A few barely managed to stand before the medic signal lit up.
Platforms emptied.
Names vanished from the display.
By the time the elimination count dropped into double digits, most of the remaining fighters wore familiar academy crests.
Starfall First.
Radiant Sky.
Northriver Combat.
Occasionally, a mid-tier academy name slipped through—but those were exceptions, not the rule.
When the system finally announced it, the arena quieted.
[ PHASE THREE — FINAL 32 CONFIRMED ]
Jin was sitting near the edge of Starfall Tenth's rest area, back against a support pillar, eyes half-closed. He wasn't meditating—just steadying his breathing, letting the faint residual tension drain out of his muscles.
Footsteps approached.
He opened his eyes slightly.
The man stopped a short distance away.
"Well," the man said mildly, "we meet again."
Jin straightened just enough to acknowledge him. "Looks like it."
The man glanced toward the arena, where another match ended in a sharp burst of light. "You're doing better than expected."
Jin didn't answer.
After a moment, the man continued, voice still even. "But this is usually where stories like yours slow down."
Jin looked at him fully now. "Is that so?"
The man smiled faintly. "There are limits. Especially for students without backing. Without roots."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice—not threatening, just matter-of-fact.
"Going too far tends to make the road rougher than it needs to be. For you. For people like you."
Jin studied him for a second, then stood.
"You don't need to worry," Jin said calmly. "I already know it won't be smooth."
The man's eyebrow lifted slightly.
Jin met his gaze without hostility, without excitement. "But if I stop here because of that… then there's no point in coming this far."
The man watched him for a long moment, then chuckled softly. "Confidence."
He stepped back. "We'll see how much of it survives."
He turned and walked away.
Jin exhaled once and sat back down.
Moments later, the arena lights shifted.
The central screen expanded, pushing all other displays aside.
[ FINAL 32 — MATCH BRACKETS RELEASE ]
Names and lines appeared.
And then—
The murmurs began.
"No way…"
"They put them together?"
"That side is stacked."
Lower-academy teachers leaned forward, faces tightening.
Students whispered urgently, tracing paths with their fingers.
The bracket finished loading.
Lines locked into place.
And the picture became clear.
On one side of the board, the names felt… familiar. Too familiar.
Lu Shen — Starfall First Academy
Opponent: Xu Yan — Starfall Sixth Academy
A pause followed as people processed it.
Starfall Sixth wasn't weak—but compared to First Academy, the gap was obvious. Xu Yan was their top-ranked student, the one who had carried his academy through Phase Two by consistency and grit alone.
No one needed to say what would happen next.
Further down—
Han Yue — Starfall First Academy
Opponent: Mu Qing — Starfall Seventh Academy
Shen Lian — Radiant Sky Institute
Opponent: Pei Rong — Starfall Eighth Academy
Qiao Ren — Northriver Combat School
Opponent: Hao Lin — Starfall Ninth Academy
Four names.
Four first-ranked students from their respective academies.
And four matches where the result felt decided before the signal ever sounded.
A teacher from Starfall Seventh exhaled quietly.
"That's… brutal."
Students from the lower Starfall academies stared at the screen, expressions tightening. There was no outrage. No shouting.
Just understanding.
They had trained for this. Pushed themselves through eliminations. Proven they were the strongest their academies had.
And now they were being placed directly in front of opponents they were never meant to beat.
Walls, not rivals.
The audience noticed it too.
"Those are all top seeds."
"They didn't even try to hide it."
"So the lower schools are just… clearing obstacles?"
Then eyes shifted.
To the other side of the bracket.
Wei Jin's name sat there—cleanly placed.
Opponent: Zhang Rui — Riverstone Academy
A low-ranked school.
If Jin won, the line continued.
Next match—
Wei Jin vs Zhao Chen
Same academy.
Same emblem.
A quiet ripple passed through the Starfall Tenth section.
"That shouldn't happen."
"Same-school matches are usually separated until late rounds."
"They didn't even pretend."
Jin noticed it at the same time chen did. He glanced over, then laughed softly—not amused, not angry.
"So it's like that."
Chen nodded once. "Looks like it."
If both advanced, one of them would be guaranteed to fall in the round of sixteen.
No flexibility.
Someone nearby said under their breath, "They're trimming the lower academies from both sides."
A mid-tier academy instructor finally voiced it aloud, disbelief plain.
"That's not coincidence."
Even among Starfall First's students, a few brows furrowed. This wasn't the usual clean hierarchy they were used to. This was… deliberate.
Teacher Han Qiu stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the board.
He didn't look surprised.
Just tired.
"So that's how they're doing it," he said quietly.
Around him, lower-academy students felt it fully now—not as anger, but as weight.
This wasn't just about strength.
It was about who was allowed to keep moving forward.
And as the system confirmed the first set of matches, one thing became obvious to everyone watching—
The reaction didn't explode all at once.
It started low.
A murmur here. A sharp whisper there.
Then it spread.
"That's not right." "Why are they all stacked on one side?" "Same-academy match in the round of sixteen?"
Lower-academy sections stirred first.
Students leaned forward, pointing at the board, tracing lines again as if the layout might change if they stared hard enough. It didn't.
A Starfall Eighth student clenched his fists.
"We didn't fight this far just to be fed to them."
A teacher from Starfall Ninth stood up halfway, then stopped, jaw tight. He wasn't shouting—yet—but his silence carried weight.
"This violates standard bracket separation," someone said openly now.
"Same-school conflict before quarterfinals?"
"That's never done."
Voices layered over each other, frustration bleeding through restraint.
"This isn't competition." "It's filtering." "They're deciding outcomes in advance."
Even some mid-tier academy instructors exchanged looks, unease creeping in. This wasn't favoritism dressed up nicely. This was too blunt.
Too obvious.
On the official platform, a few staff members leaned together, speaking in low voices while glancing back at the bracket. Data tablets were checked. Then checked again.
No error flags.
No misalignment.
It had been approved.
At the center platform, Feng Shen stood with his hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the arena floor rather than the screens. His expression was unreadable—but he hadn't spoken since the brackets went up.
Someone close to him murmured, "Sir… the reactions are getting loud."
Feng Shen didn't respond immediately.
A shout finally broke through the noise.
"This is unfair!"
It came from a lower-academy section. One voice—but it didn't stand alone for long.
"Re-seed the bracket!" "Give us proper separation!" "This isn't how Phase Three is supposed to work!"
Security didn't move yet. Neither did Feng Shen.
He simply closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Then he stepped forward.
The arena sound dampened automatically as his voice carried—calm, firm, unmistakably official.
"Phase Three brackets have been finalized."
The protests didn't stop—but they faltered.
"Any participant who refuses to enter their assigned match," Feng Shen continued evenly, "will be recorded as disqualified."
Silence fell heavier this time.
"This applies to all academies," he added. "No exceptions."
His gaze swept the arena—not challenging, not apologetic. Just stating reality.
"Prepare your students."
He turned and walked back without another word.
Behind him, officials resumed their positions. Screens remained locked.
No changes.
In the Starfall Tenth section, no one spoke for a few seconds.