A crisp breeze swept across the Spirit Kingdom's arena, stirring the hearts of the crowd as if it carried a haunting, thrilling melody.
You Canghai still held Gao Han's sword hilt, and Gao Han remained in his fighting stance. The crowd burned with curiosity, wondering if Gao Han would defy You Canghai's warning and attack without restraint—and many secretly hoped for such a turn of events.
With his head bowed, no one could see Gao Han's expression or guess his thoughts. At last, he slowly lifted his head. His frigid gaze locked with You Canghai's, and the Spirit Fusion expert felt a sharp, icy aura lance toward his eyes. He hastily channeled his soul power, unleashing an unyielding aura from his gaze that shattered the frosty force in an instant.
After defusing Gao Han's spiritual strike, You Canghai's heart raced. He has already mastered the use of his soul. He let out a self-deprecating laugh. I once thought my talent considerable—to wield soul power upon first entering the Spirit Fusion realm. How foolish. There is always someone greater.
Soul power was wielded only in the early Spirit Fusion realm; soul cultivation began at the mid-stage. Gao Han had defied all convention, using soul power at the True Essence realm. Even if he had been at the ninth layer of True Essence, it would have been understandable—some prodigies achieved that. But the first layer? It was unheard of.
Revealing this secret would bring Gao Han either endless recruitment from major powers or relentless assassination. You Canghai had been moved by Gao Han's words earlier and held the youth in high regard, so he kept the secret to himself, smiling faintly.
Gao Han held You Canghai's gaze for a moment, then relaxed and stepped beside Nian Hua, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
Wei Ying longed to teach Gao Han a lesson, but dared not act with You Canghai having already intervened; to provoke the referee would be unwise. Still, he felt compelled to rebuke him.
"Gao Han! You dare disrespect your senior. Upon returning to the sect, you will face two months of closed-door punishment!"
Gao Han did not even glance at him, his eyes cold and fixed forward as he waited for You Canghai to announce the rules of the third stage. Wen Rensi, too, held back under the weight of You Canghai's authority.
"I hope we do not meet in the tournament. If we do, I will cripple your cultivation," Wen Rensi snarled, then turned and stalked back to the Fire Cloud Manor encampment.
Fire Cloud Manor, though the weakest of the seven-star sects, still outmatched any eight-star power. It had sent nearly forty disciples, all at least at the second layer of True Essence, with nearly twenty advancing past the second round.
Just over ten disciples from the Misty Sect had qualified, ten each from the Qianling Sect and Serene Lotus Sect, twenty from the four great imperial clans, one from the Jian clan, three from the Duan clan, and the remaining slots went to small clans and wandering warriors.
Those who had advanced by luck in the first round were eliminated in the second—Situ Jian of the Situ clan, Hua Meiniang of the Drifting Flower Peak, and several other first-layer True Essence cultivators. By this point, Gao Han was the only first-layer True Essence warrior left standing.
You Canghai returned to the arena and cleared his throat. "Very well. All who hold tokens may compete in the third stage. Each token bears a unique number—your combat sequence."
Gao Han flipped over his token; on the back, a large character "Four" was engraved. So I am contestant four, he thought. He stood quietly, listening to the rules.
"The third stage differs from the previous rounds. Number One will face the last contestant, Number Two will face Number Ninety-Nine, and so on. The rules are as follows: surrender if rendered unable to fight; defeat if knocked off the platform; defeat if killing your opponent; defeat if yielding voluntarily; defeat if using poison. Combat will inevitably bring injury, but you must halt immediately if your opponent is crippled or incapacitated, or face disqualification. If both combatants lose the ability to fight, the match is a draw, and they shall compete again."
"That is all for today. The tournament resumes tomorrow. Additionally, the first-place prize has been altered: alongside the original rewards, a low-grade storage ring will be awarded." You Canghai continued, "Tomorrow, several more witnesses will join the panel: Ancestor Lu Shuang of the Lu clan, Ancestor Jian Wuxiang of the Jian clan, Ancestor Duan Muhua of the Duan clan, Elder Li Changtian of the Misty Sect, Grand Elder Xiang Wentian of the Qianling Sect, Grand Elder Ding Fang of the Serene Lotus Sect, and Inner Elder Ma Liang of Fire Cloud Manor."
He recited a long list of names, nearly all pillars of their respective powers—save for Fire Cloud Manor, represented only by an inner elder.
By now, night had fallen. For warriors, three days without rest posed no hardship; a moment of meditation would restore their strength. Yet dim light invited foul play, and the contestants needed time to recover their essence—many had been eliminated in the second round for exhausting their energy in the first.
You Canghai summoned the top hundred contestants, recorded their names and numbers, and reclaimed their tokens to prevent theft and impersonation.
As the crowd dispersed, two figures blocked Gao Han's path: Lu Zhengteng of the imperial clan and the Gu clansman. Both stared at him with murderous hatred.
Gao Han finally noticed the truth: when the Gu clansman had withstood his Earth-Shaking Might earlier, his hands had remained uninjured, untouched by frost. He now wore thin, low-grade gloves forged from demonic beast hide.
"Boy! You will pay for your arrogance!" Lu Zhengteng snarled. For all the Lu clan's power in the Spirit Kingdom, Gao Han would not be cowed.
"Do you mean to declare war on the Misty Sect?"
A young woman stepped forward beside Gao Han. Her features were plain, but her aura was imposing—third-layer True Essence. Gao Han recognized her; she stood with Hua Meiniang, a disciple of the Drifting Flower Peak.
Lu Zhengteng fell silent. He knew full well the gap between a clan and a sect; the Lu clan was no match for the Misty Sect.
"Haha! Pray we do not meet in the arena. You will regret crossing me!" With a bitter laugh, Lu Zhengteng stormed off. As a third-layer True Essence expert, he had certainly claimed a token—stolen, in fact, from Situ Jian.
The Gu clansman, realizing Gao Han was a Misty Sect disciple, dared not utter another threat, fixing him with a venomous glare.
Gao Han feared no petty glances. True power crushed all schemes and plots, a truth he had witnessed firsthand: Gao Jianfei's years of rebellion had amounted to nothing before the overwhelming might of Gao Jianshang.
The next day, as the sun rose, resounding war drums shook the arena. Each beat stirred the soul, heralding the start of the tournament.
War drums used by military legions lined the spectator stands, their thunderous rhythm igniting battle fervor in all who heard it.
Contestants poured into the arena alongside dignitaries: sect leaders of minor sects, chief constables of escort agencies, merchant tycoons, and patriarchs of small clans. Each was attended by young men under twenty, most at the peak of Qi Condensation—talented by ordinary standards, yet dim next to the tournament prodigies.
They came for two reasons: to identify the Spirit Kingdom's rising talents and avoid offending them, and to teach their own disciples humility, to show them that heavens beyond heavens and masters beyond masters existed.
The arena was surrounded by nine tiers of seats. At the very top, a wide platform held only a handful of chairs, reserved for the ancestral elders of the great clans—who had not yet arrived. The lowest tier was for the contestants; the middle eight tiers were for spectators, admission to which came at a steep price.
Time ticked onward, drawing closer to the opening bell. The drums slowed, their final beat marking the start of combat.
The spectator tiers were packed. Strangely, the calmest place was the contestants' section. The top tier remained empty, while the prodigies below stood cold and proud, silent and unruffled—though a single argument could ignite a battle at any moment.
You Canghai sat alone at the center of the arena, gazing up at the sky. Gao Han meditated with his eyes closed, oblivious to the noise around him; he would waste no opportunity to cultivate.
A long, resonant drumbeat faded, marking the tournament's official start. Before the echo died, ten figures descended from the sky. Nine hovered in midair; one, unable to sustain flight, landed on the top platform. Clad in fiery red robes with four white cloud emblems on his back—marking him as an inner elder of Fire Cloud Manor—he took his seat.
The nine floating elders landed one by one. Gao Han opened his eyes, a glint of cold light flashing within them. He spotted a figure in blue robes, embroidered with five clouds and five threads at the cuffs—the symbol of peak lords or core disciples in the Misty Sect.
Li Changtian, Gao Han whispered silently, closing his eyes again.
The same name was uttered in the spectator stands. Gao Han would have been shocked to see his father, Gao Jianfeng, sitting there with two Gao clan disciples: Gao Yong and Gao Zhi, distant relatives. Both were seventeen, at the peak of Qi Condensation, the most talented in the clan after Gao Han himself.
"Brother Zhi, I heard Brother Han joined the Misty Sect. Do you think he's competing?" Gao Yong asked.
Gao Zhi's eyes shone with sharp wit. "Unlikely. He left home only months ago, at the early ninth layer of Qi Condensation. I hear Gao Ping is in closed-door training at the Qianling Sect, trying to break through to True Essence. A pity they are rivals—with two physique warriors in our clan, we could rise to greatness." He sighed softly.
"Gao Ping is a bastard! I'd cripple him myself if Brother Han doesn't. And that old traitor Gao Jianfei—may he rot!" Gao Yong ranted, until Gao Jianfeng shot him a silencing glance.
Gao Zhi smiled faintly. He and Gao Yong were blood brothers. At the age of ten, their family had been attacked on the way to the Gao clan in Baicheng for physique testing. Their father, a second-layer True Essence warrior, had died in two strikes. Their mother had been defiled and killed. They were moments from death when Gao Fengyun, then clan patriarch, had saved them.
Gao Jianfeng had raised them as his own, and the boys had sworn loyalty to him—and vengeance. They had played with Gao Han for a year, protecting him when his water physique was mocked as worthless. Though separated for years of training, they had rejoiced upon learning his physique was a rare mutated one, and that he had been taken in by the Misty Sect.
They had no idea Gao Han had broken through so quickly, nor did they spot him in the Misty Sect's section, hidden away.
You Canghai snapped back to attention as the drums fell silent. His thunderous voice boomed across the arena. "Friends and honored guests, welcome to the Spirit Kingdom's Young Generation Tournament. Without further ado, let us announce the prizes."
First place: two top-tier low-grade swords, one million taels of silver, a low-grade storage ring donated by the Duan clan, and a Foundation Gathering Pill donated by the Jian clan.
A murmur of astonishment rippled through the crowd. Even Gao Han opened his eyes in surprise. The rewards were unimaginably lavish: a low-grade storage ring, priceless and practical, worth five million taels—rarely sold at any price.
The Foundation Gathering Pill was even more precious, forged from pure heavenly spiritual energy. A Qi Condensation warrior who took it would explode; a True Essence cultivator would gain immense power. A first-layer True Essence expert would jump two layers to the third; a third-layer, one layer; a fourth-layer, barely any boost.
These extra prizes were a calculated move by the Duan and Jian clans, who were confident their prodigies would claim first place—keeping the treasures in their hands while earning glory.
Gao Han smiled faintly. Clever indeed. But victory is not yet theirs. I might just be the one to take it all.
Before mastering the Seven-Sword Art, he would have lacked confidence. But the art's overwhelming power had filled him with certainty—it was no ordinary Mortal-Rank sword technique. It hid a far greater secret.
The second-place prize paled in comparison: a low-grade dagger and seven hundred thousand taels. Third place: a low-grade long saber. The next seven winners received seven hundred thousand taels, as before.
The staggering gap between first place and the rest set many hearts racing, but the wise shook their heads. Gao Jianfeng turned to Gao Zhi. "What do you make of this?"
Gao Zhi pondered for a moment. "It is a ploy by the Jian and Duan clans. They wish to show the world their wealth, attracting prodigies to their ranks. By sending Jian Qingtian and Duan Qianchou, they ensure the prizes stay within their families."
Gao Jianfeng smiled and nodded. "One day, you shall lead the Gao clan."
Gao Zhi paled. "Never! What of Brother Han—"
"Han's heart lies on the path of martial greatness, not clan leadership. He would refuse the title were I to offer it," Gao Jianfeng said softly.
A gentle wind swept across the arena. The final battle was about to begin.