"It's okay, man. There's always next time," one participant said, consoling the man who had fallen to his knees.
"Ahh, there are more people who passed than I expected," the Heavenly Star Sect representative said as he turned to the Patriarch.
"Yes, indeed. There are more rising stars than ever," Patriarch Xing nodded.
"What? Even that boy passed?" Xing muttered, eyes narrowing as he looked toward Lian.
"Did he somehow manage to break through his corpse meridians? Or is it just stubbornness…? Let's watch him closely," Patriarch Xing thought to himself.
"All those whose name plates did not activate within the time limit, please exit the stage," the announcer declared.
People began drifting away, some of them sobbing.
"This was my only chance… a better life for my parents and me…" one boy cried, clutching his useless name plate.
During this Menji period, every child dreamed of becoming a martial artist. From birth, parents would pour millions upon millions into cultivation resources, all to give their children a chance at greatness.
Yet most of them ended up with broken dreams. Not everyone possessed the talent for martial arts, and countless families fell into bankruptcy because of it.
But for the few who succeeded, for those rare prodigies who rose above the masses.
They would live like kings, ruling over the common people.
And that alone… was worth risking everything for.
"Nice, nice," the announcer clapped his hands. "Now that everyone is done, let's move on to the next phase."
An elder waved his hand, transmitting a message to the announcer.
"Oh—sorry, ladies and gentlemen," he continued with a chuckle, "but your numbers are far too many to proceed further. We need to thin out the crowd."
His words stirred instant discomfort among the participants.
Elder Yang rose from his seat and walked toward the centre of the stage. Once he reached the middle, he opened his storage pouch. Yellow seal tags burst out, flying in all directions like scattered petals.
They drifted upward, settling along the edges of the rings.
The air shifted.
The ground vibrated slightly as the array snapped into place.
A powerful gust of wind erupted from Elder Yang, forcing the participants to stagger backwards.
"So that's a master of arrays… I wonder why he is placing an array around the stages," Lian thought, eyes narrowing as he studied the carvings and seal patterns glowing faintly.
"If you look at your name plate," Elder Yang announced, "you'll find a number beneath your name. After checking it, proceed to the stage that matches your number."
Participants immediately began moving, each heading to their assigned ring.
"Only four people should remain on each ring," Elder Yang continued. "If you're knocked off the stage, you lose. You may also surrender. If so, one of the instructors will flag you and escort you out."
"This will be a battle royal." Elder Yang paused.
"How can we even win against these Geniuses?" So of the people complained.
"MMMM don't worry," Yang said, clearing his throat.
"The Envoys will be watching," he added, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. "So do your best. They might choose to scout you, even if you don't win the whole thing."
Hearing that, even those who were hesitant earlier ignited with determination.
Excitement and fear mingled as everyone rushed toward their rings, eager to prove themselves.
Lian looked around—he had been placed in Group Four.
"Mmm… seems I'm lucky. No heavy hitters here," he thought, scanning the faces around him. "Though I want to fight them… I need to conserve my strength. I must stand out later."
His eyes shifted. At the corner of his vision, he noticed a young man surrounded by a pack of adoring women.
"Ahh!!, we're in the same group as Lin Feng. That's already one spot taken," people whispered nervously among themselves.
"So… Ye Xing isn't in my batch," Lian murmured.
"And so it begins!" Elder Yang clapped his hands together.
A loud bang echoed, shaking the air—and chaos erupted instantly.
People lunged at each other, fists and weapons flying.
"Look at them," Lian muttered, tilting his head just in time to dodge a spike whip aimed at the back of his skull. "They're all avoiding the so-called geniuses and attacking anyone they think is weaker."
He sidestepped again and planted a solid punch into a man's abdomen, freezing the breath right out of him.
"Ahh the man cried, falling to the ground." And an invisible force carried him out of the ring.
As time passed, the numbers dwindled. At first, it was impossible to tell who was fighting whom—just a blur of limbs and Qi. But now, as bodies dropped and space widened, the battles became clearer.
Up in the stands, Empress Li observed with a soft smile. She was the envoy representing the Heavenly Star Sect—known not only as an empress, but also as Enchantress Li, famed for a beauty that made countless men fall silent at her presence.
"Old Xing, I see your son is quite the prodigy," Empress Li said lightly. She shifted her seating posture, the movement teasingly revealing her smooth, silky legs. "Those little ones don't even dare approach him. You must be proud."
"Mmm." Patriarch Xing nodded, expression unreadable, though a faint glimmer of satisfaction shone in his eyes.
The battles on the stages intensified. One by one, participants were eliminated, and the cheers from the spectators grew louder.
The other groups had already cleared their stages, with the well-known names securing their spots:
Yue Xing, Zhou Lung, the Rhino Twins, Chifu, Xian, and Xiao.
"Mmm… eight people are remaining here," Lian muttered as he struck another opponent, sending them flying off the ring.
Next to Lin Feng were two girls clinging to him, gently rubbing his arms. Lin Feng looked slightly embarrassed, his cheeks tinted red.
"I'll be progressing with these two," Lin Feng announced proudly. "That leaves space for one more among yourselves."
"Ohh? Hahaha, what a hasty young man," Empress Li chuckled, licking her lips. "These young ones certainly have vigour… but he would do well to learn humility too."
"One of yours is in that ring," Elder Yang added, glancing toward Group Four.
"Well, a tiger is still a tiger—even if it's only a cub," he continued with a soft laugh.
But the Patriarch said nothing.
His gaze was fixed sharply on Lian.
"What do you think? Should we take out Lian first and then fight among ourselves? That way, the numbers will be even," one of them suggested.
"Yes, that's a great idea. After we get rid of that trash, we can decide the winner among ourselves," another agreed.
All four nodded, spreading out as they began surrounding Lian.
"It might've been luck that you survived until now, but it ends here," one of them spat.
Ye Xing sneered from his own stage.
"Pathetic, how trashy must that group be that Lian is still fighting?"
"Xing, look," one of the envoys said, eyes narrowing.
"Those four are going to gang up on your nephew."
"We will see if he truly is a cub… or something else," Empress Li murmured, her voice dripping with venom, eyes glinting dangerously.
"Something is intriguing about that boy," she added.
"Hiyaaaa!" one of the men shouted as he rushed at Lian, blade raised high.
The sword came straight for his face. Taking a small step back, Lian weaved aside—the blade cutting past him so closely he felt the wind of it. Behind him, three arrows whistled through the air in succession. Channelling Qi beneath his feet, he leapt upward just as they struck the ground.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The arrows exploded, carving a giant crater into the arena floor.
"It seems I can't underestimate them," Lian thought, ducking as two more attacks came at him from both flanks. He flipped twice in the air, landing lightly near the edge of the ring.
"Mmm… is he using micro-steps?" Elder Yang murmured from the stands. "For his movement technique to be that refined at his age… this child truly has talent in the movement arts. But his Qi seems to be lacking."
A few moments later continued dodging. He was already adapting—using minimal Qi, blocking, dodging, and studying their patterns.
"Is that all you can do? Dodge?!" Bao roared—the swordsman who had first attacked.
Bao shifted his stance; the air around him tightened.
"Striking Shadow Flow!"
He roared as his figure split into five identical copies. All five lifted their swords and thrust downward at once, dark Qi gathering at their blades. A violent gust followed as the slashes tore the ground apart on their way toward Lian.
"That's too dangerous, I need to get out of the way!" Lian sprang to the side, sweat falling from his face.
"Too late," Chan muttered from above.
And arrows dropped from the sky right toward Lian.
"Damn it," Lian cursed.
He spun toward the arrow diving for him. Frost Qi swirled around his right hand, condensing into an ice wall that spread across the ground. Using micro-steps, he weaved through the rain of arrows descending toward him.
"Ouch—" a stray arrow clipped his sleeve as he dropped to the ground.
"What kind of tec-"
Boom!
Bao's attack crashed into the ice wall, shattering it instantly and blasting Lian backwards until he skidded near the edge of the ring.
"Oho…" he coughed, forcing himself upright. He had no time to breathe—the other two attackers were already charging at him.
Lian exhaled sharply. Frost Qi burst from under his feet, coating the ground in a thin layer of ice. The two attackers lost their footing as their momentum slipped out of control; their blades swung past him, missing by inches.
"Hu…" Lian breathed, sliding out of the barrage before springing back to steady himself. He stood tall again, catching his breath.
"You know… he's actually not bad," someone in the crowd muttered.
More murmurs followed.
"Why were people calling him trash?" a spectator asked.
"Mmm… I don't know. Everyone else called him trash, so I just went along with it," another admitted.
"Old Xing, who is that boy's teacher? Is his mother from the Ice Palace?" an envoy asked curiously.
"Yes, I'm quite curious as well. I thought only the successor from the ice palace can use ice technique", Empress Li added, her voice sharp and probing.
"You fool—can't you see? It's not Ice Palace arts. It's just ordinary frost Qi," Elder Yang said sharply.
"I've fought against Ice Palace cultivators before. Their ice arts are nothing like that boy's technique," he added, scowling at the two envoys who had spoken.
"Yes, Old Yang, I see what you mean. I was simply surprised," the envoy muttered.
Patriarch Xing said nothing. He only listened quietly; his gaze fixed on Lian.
"Let's finish him!" Chan roared.
"My poison arrow already hit him!"
"Hu… hu… hu…" Lian's breathing was heavy, but his eyes sharpened.
"Yeah, looked at him, he is breathing heavily", the other three added.
Lian's vision was blurry as he tried to keep track of all four of them.
Then clarity struck him.
It wasn't that Lian Xing was weaker. In fact, it was the opposite. The Qi he gained from the Fire Essence had pushed him into a pseudo- Foundation state; his Qi was two times that of his realm, or rather, it is correct to say his Qi was denser. What he lacked wasn't strength; it was experience.
Real battle experience.
And now, he finally had it.
"I see it all," Lian whispered. "How their Qi swells before they attack… how their muscles tense… how their bodies shift. I can see it all."
He stood perfectly still and closed his eyes.
"What are you giving up now?" Chan barked.
Everything went silent around him.
His right foot stretched forward, his left rooted firmly to the ground. One fist curled: the other opened with the palm facing upward.
"Yin–Yang Lotus…" he murmured.
Under his feet, a glowing lotus trigram unfolded—its petals expanding outward until half the entire ring was covered in shimmering light.
"Lian Xinggggg!"
Bao roared as he attacked, his blade wrapped in Qi so dense it rang like a bell when he thrust it forward toward Lian.
"That one shows promise," an envoy remarked. "Blade Resonance—he must have trained endlessly to achieve that."
Lian met the strike with his open palm. Frost Qi spread across his skin and absorbed the blade's force. At the same time, his other fist ignited with fire Qi. With elegant, spiralling force, he struck Bao square in the stomach.
Boom—!
Bao flew off the stage instantly.
Two attackers came from his sides. Lian's body flowed like water—slipping between their strikes, letting the blows pass harmlessly. Then, with a twist of his wrists, he redirected both of their energies.
Crack!
The two men collided with each other, falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
"Song of Fire and Ice!" Lian declared.
Arrows rained down. He weaved through them gracefully, freezing some mid-air with shards of ice, burning others into dust with flicks of flame.
"Woaaah! Haaah!"
The crowd erupted, watching him move with impossible fluidity—every dodge, every counter a perfect blend of control and instinct.
"It's like he is dancing", someone pointed out.
The two men he had knocked down staggered back up and charged again. Lian's movements grew faster—so fast it looked as if he had an extra pair of hands. One set blocked, the other struck, his attacks and defences blending seamlessly in a dance of cold and heat.
"I must have that boy," Empress Li thought to herself, eyes gleaming.
"Truly remarkable," Elder Yang said, stroking his beard. "Softness and hardness in perfect union… that boy has already grasped the concept of Yin and Yang."
"I wonder if I should take him as a disciple." Elder Yang's eyes light up.