Similar hushed discussions rose and fell throughout the crowd.
When the contestants with Second Grade Cultivation glanced at Fang Han, their eyes couldn't help but carry a hint of nervousness and apprehension.
Fang Han seemed oblivious to these gazes. He simply returned to his previous spot and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
He could feel the weight of their stares, but his composure remained undisturbed.
Just then, a gaze shot from the other side of the crowd. It carried an undisguised sharpness, like a drawn sword, landing directly on him.
Fang Han looked up and met a pair of calm yet sharp eyes.
Bai Yan.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, hands clasped behind his back, his moon-white robes fluttering gently in the wind.
His eyes on Fang Han held no hostility or apprehension—only a pure battle intent, the kind that flares when sword edges meet.
Fang Han met his gaze. The two of them locked eyes for a silent moment across the crowd.
