“Junior Brother Han!”

Han Yu stepped down from the dueling platform. He saw Senior Sister Li smiling and waving at him, and beyond her, the stunned, ecstatic gazes of Zhong Yue and the others.

As he moved through the crowd, stares and murmurs surged toward him like a rising tide.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Han Yu focused his mind, forcibly suppressing the faint trace of nervousness in his chest.

The massive crow descended, perching on his shoulder. It pecked gently at his hair, its dark golden pupils shining with delight.

Han Yu reached up and stroked the crow’s tail feathers, a silent bond of spirit flowing between them.

At that moment, Bai Lingyun, Meng Bao, and Li Xuan approached.

“Han Yu, how… how are you so powerful?” Bai Lingyun asked, his face a mask of confusion.

Before Han Yu could reply, the young master’s shoulders slumped. “I thought losing to other Outer Disciples was natural, just the way of things. I didn’t expect… it was just me being too weak. I had no idea the gap between us was this wide!”

Elder Bai walked over, hands clasped behind his back. Hearing this, he seized the chance to temper his descendant’s character.

“Han Yu stands here today because of bitter, diligent cultivation. If you wish to raise your strength, you must put in the work. Stop looking for shortcuts and crooked paths.”

“Mm. I understand, Great-Grandfather.”

Bai Lingyun glanced at Han Yu and nodded firmly. It seemed he had finally found a target to chase.

“Let’s go. Back to cultivation,” Elder Bai commanded.

Bai Lingyun hesitated. “Great-Grandfather, can I watch a little longer?”

“Then watch by yourself. I’m leaving.” Elder Bai kept his hands behind his back, nodding approvingly at Han Yu. “Your talent is excellent. Do not let it go to waste.”

Han Yu bowed slightly. “Thank you for the praise, Elder.”

“You’re really not watching anymore?” Bai Lingyun asked, curious.

Elder Bai’s steps faltered for a second, and he huffed, sounding annoyed. “No. If I stay any longer, I’ll have to see Lu Qing’s smug face. Who knows how wide he’s grinning right now!”

With that, the old man hurried away.

Not long after, the first round of the tournament concluded.

due to a few unexpected upsets and double knockouts, only fifty-two disciples remained for the second round.

After a brief intermission, the Outer Disciple Grand Competition resumed.

The remaining disciples were the cream of the crop. The battles that followed were fiercer, the stakes higher.

“Outer Disciple Lu Yun of the Deacon’s Hall, versus Outer Disciple Wu Ying of the Alchemy Department!”

“Outer Disciple Han Yu of the Spirit Field Department, versus Outer Disciple Zhou Yan of the Talisman Department!”

The announcements rang out in succession. Lu Yun stepped onto his platform first.

Han Yu didn’t hesitate. He turned toward his assigned arena.

Bai Lingyun, who belonged to the Talisman Department, knew the opponent well. He hurried up behind Han Yu to warn him. “Han Yu, be careful! Senior Brother Zhou is at the fifth layer of Qi Refining. He’s loaded with talismans and even has a magical artifact. Don’t force it if things get dangerous!”

“Gah gah!”

The crow on Han Yu’s shoulder let out a sound like a laugh, shaking its glossy black head.

Han Yu paused, turned to thank Bai Lingyun for the warning, and ascended the platform.

Zhou Yan looked to be around thirty. A heavy Storage Bag hung at his waist—likely stuffed with talismans—and the faint spiritual glow of inner armor pulsed from beneath his blue robes.

“Junior Brother Han.”

Zhou Yan smiled and cupped his hands. “Shall we use external aids?”

Zhou Yan had watched Han Yu’s previous match. If they competed purely on spellcasting, Han Yu’s proficiency was terrifying; the outcome would be unpredictable.

But external aids? Zhou Yan touched his Storage Bag. Between his stockpile of talismans and his defensive artifact, he held the overwhelming advantage in wealth and gear.

“Alright,” Han Yu replied calmly.

He reached into his Storage Bag and withdrew his flying sword, a ring, and a stack of talismans.

He slid the defensive ring onto his finger and gripped the flying sword. From his stack, he pulled a Sharp Gold Talisman and slapped it onto the blade.

Hum.

A sharp, metallic intent surged from the weapon, the air around it vibrating with a cutting edge that promised blood upon contact.

The crow took to the sky, its dark golden eyes locking onto Zhou Yan, waiting for the signal to kill.

“Ready?”

The presiding Deacon glanced at both disciples. Seeing them prepared, he chopped his hand down.

“Begin!”

The moment the word left the Deacon’s lips, Han Yu’s flying sword exploded forward.

Zhou Yan had just begun to activate the talisman in his hand. He fired a Wind Blade Technique, but it was too slow. It whizzed past the incoming sword, aimed at Han Yu’s face.

Han Yu didn’t even flinch; he simply tilted his head. The wind blade grazed past him and gouged a deep mark into the stone floor behind him.

Simultaneously, a metallic screech tore through the air.

Han Yu’s flying sword punched straight through Zhou Yan’s protective spell like it was paper. It shredded his blue outer robe and slammed into the defensive inner armor beneath.

CLANG!

Zhou Yan’s face went white. The impact force transmitted through the armor hammered his chest, stealing his breath.

He looked down in horror. His high-grade Qi Refining inner armor… had cracked.

What kind of sharpness is this?!

Panic seized him. He threw himself into a roll, desperately trying to put distance between himself and the floating blade.

His hands fumbled with a thick stack of talismans, trying to layer more defenses.

But the sword was relentless.

It hovered five feet in the air, twisted with the fluidity of a living snake, and dove. Before Zhou Yan could scramble to his feet, a streak of cold light grazed his ear.

Thud.

The sword sank three inches deep into the bluestone floor, quivering right next to his temple.

Zhou Yan frozen. His hand, still clutching the unactivated talismans, trembled.

“Han Yu wins!” the Deacon announced.

Zhou Yan swallowed hard, standing up with a dejected expression. “Junior Brother Han’s flying sword… is truly formidable.”

“Your magical artifact is quite durable as well.” Han Yu offered a polite, faint smile. He stroked the crow’s feathers as it landed, then turned to leave the platform.

The crow grumbled, unhappy. It had been ready to tear into the enemy, but the man had collapsed too quickly.

Below the stage, the spectators were in an uproar.

Even Senior Sister Li was wide-eyed. “I thought you would be locked in a stalemate for a while, Junior Brother Han. I never expected you to win in a single exchange!”

“That guy was at the fifth layer of Qi Refining, right?”

Sun Kang and Liu Lan exchanged looks of pure shock. They had watched Han Yu join the sect only two years ago. To think a fifth-layer disciple would crumble before him in seconds… it was unimaginable.

Bai Lingyun, Li Xuan, and Meng Bao rushed over, their congratulations mixed with disbelief.

“You even beat Senior Brother Zhou,” Bai Lingyun marveled. “With this momentum, you might actually squeeze into the top ten! A third-layer disciple in the top ten… it’s unheard of!”

Han Yu chatted with them briefly. On a nearby platform, Lu Yun had also secured victory against a fourth-layer opponent.

Soon, the third round began.

This time, Han Yu faced another fifth-layer Outer Disciple. However, this opponent had learned from Zhou Yan’s mistake.

Reasoning that Han Yu’s flying sword was too sharp to block with standard artifacts, and assuming Han Yu’s low cultivation meant limited mana, the opponent made a strategic choice: he refused to use external aids. He wanted a contest of pure spellcasting.

It was a fatal miscalculation.

Han Yu instantly cast the Phantom Body technique. Two figures appeared on the stage, blurring reality.

The opponent panicked and fired a spell at the figure on the left—it passed harmlessly through an illusion. Before he could recover, his own protective barrier shattered under the impact of Han Yu’s Sharp Gold Technique.

The real one is over there!

The opponent spun around. But his vision blurred, and suddenly another Han Yu appeared on his flank, casting a spell.

The disciple froze, confusion warring with instinct. Ignore it! The one who cast the spell earlier must be the real body!

He ignored the new figure and prepared to counterattack the previous position.

Slash.

A Wind Blade Technique flew from the “illusion” on his flank, slicing cleanly through the corner of his robe.

Han Yu’s voice came from the side. “Senior Brother, you’ve lost.”

The Outer Disciple stood dumbfounded, staring at the cut in his clothes. “How… how could that be the real one? But the other one…”

He turned just in time to see the “original” Han Yu dissolve into mist.

The large crow descended slowly from the sky, landing on Han Yu’s shoulder. It let out a proud caw and used its wing to brush a speck of nonexistent dust from its master’s shoulder, looking incredibly smug.

“Gah!”

With the conclusion of the third round, only twelve disciples remained in the Outer Disciple Grand Competition.

Han Yu had all but secured his place in the top ten.