The seven-day rest period passed in the blink of an eye, amid countless sleepless nights and secret scheming.
At dawn, before the first rays of sunlight had fully dispersed the cold mist over Black Wind Ridge, the silence of Black Blood Stockade's central martial arena was utterly shattered by the thunderous sound of kui-ox hide war drums.
The rolling drumbeats seemed to strike upon every heart, announcing that the thirty-two elite ranking tournament—which would determine the clan's power structure for the next decade—had officially begun.
When thousands of clan members surged into the arena like a tide once more, everyone was stunned by the sight before them.
The scale had elevated dramatically.
Compared to the dozen or so cramped, crude square stone platforms from the preliminary rounds that resembled chaotic melees, the center of the martial arena had now been completely cleared.
Only two extremely spacious main stages remained, newly paved with incomparably hard blue steel rock.
The defensive Gu formations surrounding the stages had also been upgraded to Rank 3 level, their light flowing and impenetrable.
Having only two stages made the intention abundantly clear—the clan's upper echelons wanted to ensure that every battle among these thirty-two elites received complete, comprehensive attention.
This was no longer a muddy pit for pretenders, but a true arena for prodigies.
The view shifted to the towering observation platform at the front of the martial arena.
Patriarch Lin Cang, having just emerged from seclusion and carrying the supreme pressure of a newly-advanced Rank 4 cultivator, sat in the tiger-skin throne at the very center.
On either side of him, the core clan elders who held great power—from the Punishment Hall, Medicine Hall, External Affairs Hall, Storage Hall, and others—were all seated.
Their expressions were no longer as casual as during the preliminaries. Instead, they gazed down coldly with the harsh scrutiny of those evaluating the clan's future foundation.
This was not merely a ranking tournament but a reshuffling of clan resources—a battleground where various factions would redivide the pie under the watchful eyes of a Rank 4 powerhouse.
Below the stage, Lin Mu stood leisurely in the inner viewing area with the best sightlines, wearing a neat and tidy blue Steward's robe.
People crowded all around, yet a natural circle of empty space formed around him. After the fermentation of public opinion following the Blood Forest battle, he was now the "number one favorite" beside Lin Feng. Ordinary branch members simply didn't dare approach him.
Lin Mu kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, his expression calm.
He had no ability to manipulate the black box drawing lots on the high platform, but in his hands he held a weapon more terrifying than any rigged lottery—absolute control of information.
"Match five: Branch member Lin Wuxie versus Inner Disciple Lin Tie!"
With the referee's shout, the "dark horse" Lin Wuxie—who had dazzled during the preliminaries, smashing his way into the top thirty-two with terrifying brute strength—walked expressionlessly onto the first stage.
His opponent was a powerful, experienced veteran inner disciple at Rank 1 Peak, most skilled in mobile warfare and hidden weapons.
The gamblers below instantly went wild. Countless people had profited from Lin Wuxie's upset victories during the preliminaries, and now they bet their entire fortunes on this dark horse with bloodshot eyes, hoping he would continue his streak of upsets.
Listening to the deafening sounds of betting around him, Lin Mu's lips curved into a hidden, cold smile.
Time seemed to rewind to a late night two days ago.
In the Rotten Shed District, inside a broken shack.
Lin Mu, disguised as the "Shadow Sect Emissary," had tossed down the powder to suppress backlash before issuing cold orders from above to Lin Wuxie, who knelt in the mud:
"Top thirty-two is enough."
"The Black Blood Stockade's Patriarch is now Rank 4. If he personally watches the ranking tournament, your incomplete Food Path methods might fool Rank 1 and Rank 2 cultivators, but they absolutely cannot fool Rank 4 eyes!"
"Once the Food Path secret is exposed, not only will you die without a burial place, but you'll also implicate the sect's grand plan!"
"So in this first match of the top thirty-two, you will lose. The more natural it looks, the better!"
The memory faded.
The battle on the stage had already begun.
Lin Wuxie perfectly executed his "senior brother's" orders. He still performed like a maddened beast, roaring and charging fearlessly at his opponent again and again.
But under his opponent's extremely cunning "kiting" tactics, amid the consumption of bone spikes and wooden vines flying everywhere, Lin Wuxie "gradually" slowed down.
He didn't use even the slightest trace of demonic black light, nor did he bite anyone to drink blood. He simply relied on pure physical prowess to endure.
Finally, after rampaging for half an hour, he was "exhausted."
"Boom!"
Covered in blood, Lin Wuxie crashed heavily onto the blue steel rock, gasping for breath, unable to rise again.
"First stage—Lin Tie wins!"
As the referee announced the result, the gamblers outside who had bet everything on Lin Wuxie instantly let out pig-slaughtering screams.
Countless people beat their chests and stomped their feet, tearing up their betting slips.
"Useless trash! Get up! All my Primeval Stones are gone!"
Amid this chorus of wailing, Lin Mu leisurely summoned Lin Ping and smiled as he verified the secret ledger before him.
Riding this wave of the "dark horse's shocking elimination," he had secretly placed massive bets on that veteran inner disciple. Though the odds weren't high, with such a large base amount, he had once again quietly made a fortune.
The puppet's remaining value had been squeezed completely dry by Lin Mu before his exit.
"Well done."
Lin Mu watched Lin Wuxie being carried off the stage, silently praising him. "He preserved his life and kept the Food Path secret. This hidden blade can still be put to great use in the future."
The next several matches, though bloody and brutal with all manner of Gu worms appearing, proceeded according to script—the strong advanced.
The clan elders on the high platform watched with waning interest, occasionally raising teacups to moisten their throats.
Just when everyone thought the morning's matches would conclude in this uneventful rhythm—
The elder referee in charge of the drawing reached into the special Gu-worm-constructed lot cylinder and pulled out two wooden tablets inscribed with names.
When he saw the names clearly, his expression shifted slightly. He even instinctively glanced up at Patriarch Lin Cang seated at the highest position.
Lin Cang's face remained expressionless as he nodded slightly.
The referee elder took a deep breath, channeled Primeval Essence into his throat, and announced loudly:
"Next match! Punishment Hall's Lin Yan versus Storage Hall's Lin Ze!"
The moment these words fell—
The entire vast martial arena first fell into deathly silence, as if time itself had been paused.
Then came an uproar loud enough to blow off the roof!
"What did I just hear?! Lin Yan against Lin Ze?!"
"Have they gone mad?! These are two of the four seeded contestants! They're meeting in the first round of the top thirty-two?!"
"This drawing is definitely rigged!"
The crowd erupted completely.
No one had expected that a peak showdown that should have been saved for the top four or even the finals would be so cruelly unveiled in the very first round.
On opposite sides of the stage—
On one side stood the pride of the Punishment Hall: hot-tempered, specializing in Fire Path, harboring a belly full of pent-up rage from the swamp defeat, known as the "Mad Lion"—Lin Yan.
His upper body was bare, dark red scars from fire poison rippling across his muscles, eyes burning with savage battle intent that could devour anyone in its path.
On the other side stood the young master of the Storage Hall: wealthy beyond measure, covered head to toe in premium Gu worms, nicknamed the "moving turtle shell" for his "absolute defense within the same rank"—Lin Ze.
Though his face was somewhat pale, he still maintained his young master's composure, the Rank 2 Golden Bell Gu on his body already beginning to shimmer faintly.
Upon the high platform, the atmosphere instantly became extremely delicate.
The faces of both the Punishment Hall's Grand Elder and the Storage Hall's Elder darkened simultaneously, as ugly as the bottom of a pot.
This premature internal conflict meant that one of the seeded contestants they had painstakingly cultivated wouldn't even make it to the top sixteen—absolutely not what they wanted to see.
But neither dared voice any protest.
Because everyone knew the lot cylinder had been personally brought by the Patriarch.
This seemingly random drawing actually revealed the Rank 4 Patriarch's imperial scheming—using this opportunity to discipline the various halls and maintain balance among the upper echelons.
He wanted these deeply entrenched halls to wear each other down, thereby consolidating his own supreme power.
"Now this is getting interesting."
Lin Mu stood below the stage, watching the two vastly different figures above, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
"The purest spear against the most expensive shield. Is the turtle shell built with money harder, or are the teeth of a lion driven mad sharper?"
"Let the match—begin!"
With the referee's command, the first true climax of the top thirty-two tournament exploded forth!