Clang!

Metal shrieked against metal.

Qin Lu’s face went pale as if struck by a siege hammer. His body was launched backward, flying through the air in a clumsy arc.

Thud!

He slammed heavily into the translucent spirit barrier surrounding the arena, sliding down to the stone floor with an uncontrolled sprawl.

His opponent, Lu Anchen, didn’t hesitate. The young man surged forward, his long sword thrusting toward Qin Lu’s exposed throat.

Ding!

The lethal strike triggered the arena’s defensive formation. A golden ripple of light erupted between the blade and Qin Lu’s neck, halting the attack.

“Winner: Lu Anchen!” the referee announced.

The crowd exploded.

“Holy hells! How is Lu Anchen so fierce? He took down the Swallowing Sky Python!”

“Damn it! Damn it all! I put everything on the Python! I’m ruined!”

“Whatever, that kid is a beast. No wonder he’s the Xuanyang Sect’s top enforcer!”

Curses and shouts of disbelief washed over the crater. Only a handful of sharp-eyed cultivators frowned, looking puzzled. To them, Qin Lu’s defeat had seemed… convenient. Too simple.

Qin Lu didn’t stick around to offer explanations. He scrambled up, dusted off his backside, and walked off the stage without looking back.

He had just delivered the performance of a lifetime. Coupled with Lu Anchen’s earnest offense, they had successfully pulled off the Great Heist of the Finals.

Per the rules, the loser had to vacate the preparation area immediately. Qin Lu meandered toward a specific section of the spectator stands.

A familiar figure was waiting for him.

Qin Lu slid into the seat next to Lu Xian. staring straight ahead with a nonchalant expression.

“How was it?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Ahem.” Lu Xian covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a cough. “To be honest? The setup was solid, but that final fall… the flailing was a bit gratuitous.”

“Huh?” Qin Lu’s face stiffened slightly. “Gratuitous? That was my artistic design! I was actually quite proud of the physics engine on that one.”

Lu Xian chuckled softly. “Relax. It won’t arouse suspicion. Even if it does, everyone knows you’re close with Anchen. Throwing a match to a friend is hardly a capital crime.”

Qin Lu nodded, accepting the critique.

He glanced toward the VIP platform. The Foundation Establishment Elders weren’t even looking at him; their gazes were fixed on Lu Anchen, the rising star.

Qin Lu exhaled, his shoulders dropping an inch. The intense, almost suffocating feeling of being under the gaze of thousands finally evaporated. He felt light, unburdened—a ghost in the crowd once more.

“Hehe! Time to enjoy the show.” Qin Lu slumped comfortably into his seat.

Watching from the stands offered a different perspective. He finally noticed the mechanics of the betting system.

Before each match, runners from the local gambling houses weaved through the throngs like fish in a stream. Punters would flag them down, exchange Spirit Stones for carved wooden tokens marked with the odds, and redeem them later if they won.

Realization dawned on Qin Lu, followed immediately by a wave of regret.

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered. “I didn’t bet on myself to lose.”

He had missed a golden opportunity to make a fortune.

The tournament raged on.

The Early and Middle Stage brackets concluded with their own dramas, but the crowd was restless. They were here for the main event: the conclusion of the Late Stage bracket.

As predicted, Wei Zimo of the Wuji Sect and Yang Zhen of the Immortal Crane Sect decimated their opponents, advancing to the fifth round.

Because there were five finalists remaining, the draw required a ‘lucky pass’—one cultivator would advance directly to the top three without fighting.

In a twist that stunned everyone, the pass fell to Lu Anchen.

The young man walked straight into the top three without lifting a finger, securing the massive reward of a commercial shop.

“I have to say,” Qin Lu murmured, shaking his head, “Little Lu’s luck is actually frightening. Bumbling his way into the top three…”

“Hehe. To reach this height with only an Eighth Layer cultivation? That is indeed heaven-defying fortune,” Lu Xian agreed, stroking his beard with evident pride.

“Wei Zimo and Yang Zhen still haven’t fought,” Qin Lu noted, his eyes narrowing. “It seems destiny wants them for the finale.”

“Indeed…” Lu Xian’s smile faded. He nudged his chin toward the high platform. “Look at Ancestor Zhang. His expression has changed. He must have caught wind of the rumors.”

Qin Lu looked up.

Zhang Zhenyuan, the Golden Core Ancestor of the Wuji Sect, sat on his throne like a statue. His face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were fixed on the arena with a cold, terrifying intensity.

The Foundation Establishment Elders around him sat stiffly, sweat beading on their foreheads. The atmosphere in the VIP box was heavy enough to crush bone.

Down in the stands, even the loose cultivators began to sense the shift. Whispers spread like wildfire, trading gossip about the tension.

In this suffocating atmosphere, the sixth round began.

Lu Anchen’s luck finally ran dry. He drew Yang Zhen.

The gambling houses didn’t even open a pool for this match. The disparity was too great.

The result was exactly as brutal as expected. Lu Anchen fought bravely, but he was outclassed in every metric. In less than ten exchanges, he was battered off the stage, bruised and defeated.

“Sigh. He’s a monster,” Lu Anchen said, limping back to join Qin Lu and Lu Xian in the stands.

“Normal,” Lu Xian said bluntly.

“Don’t dwell on it, Little Lu. Sit down,” Qin Lu said, his eyes locked on the stage. “Get ready. The real war starts now.”

The Wuji Sect organizers delayed the final match, seemingly to build hype, but the tension was already at a boiling point.

News of the Immortal Crane Sect’s defection to the Dragon Tiger Sect had permeated the crowd. Everyone understood the stakes. If Yang Zhen won, the Wuji Sect wasn’t just losing a tournament; they were losing their reputation on their own soil.

On the stage, Yang Zhen stood in a black robe, his dark hair whipping in the wind. His eyes burned with an unruly, savage arrogance. He leveled his long saber at his opponent and roared.

“Kid! Let’s see if your title of ‘Genius’ has any weight, or if it’s just hot air!”

Wei Zimo, only seventeen years old, stood like a deeply rooted pine. He gripped his longsword, his expression icy.

“You talk too much.”

They stood frozen for a heartbeat, two storms about to collide.

The square erupted. Tens of thousands of cultivators screamed, the noise shaking the ground.

“Begin!”

At the referee’s command, the world blurred.

They didn’t test each other. They went straight for the kill.

Wei Zimo was a whirlwind of sword light, precise and deadly. Yang Zhen was a brute force avalanche, his saber hacking with the weight of a mountain.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Sparks showered the arena like fireworks. The shockwaves of their collision cracked the stone floor.

Qin Lu watched with rapt attention, his analytical mind dissecting every move. He placed himself in their shoes, running simulations. Block high, dodge left. Counter with Fireball. Too slow. Use the Wind Step.

It was a dazzling display of wealth and power. Artifacts, hidden weapons, talismans, and secret arts were thrown out with abandon.

But eventually, the deadlock broke.

There was a deafening crack. Yang Zhen’s saber shattered into fragments.

But in that same motion, his fist—glowing with a sinister energy—smashed through Wei Zimo’s guard.

Wei Zimo flew backward, coughing blood. He tried to rise, but a fragment of the broken blade was pressed against his throat.

Yang Zhen stood over him, chest heaving, holding the hilt of his broken weapon.

He turned to the silent VIP stands, sweeping his gaze over the Wuji Sect elders with supreme arrogance.

“Hmph! The title of Champion… belongs to my Immortal Crane Sect!”

Up on the high platform, Ancestor Zhang Zhenyuan stood up.

He didn’t speak. He simply flicked his sleeve with a violence that sounded like a thunderclap.

Bang!

The air itself seemed to recoil. The Golden Core Ancestor transformed into a streak of iridescent light, shooting into the sky and vanishing over the horizon in the blink of an eye.

He left without a word.

The remaining Foundation Establishment cultivators sat in stunned silence, looking at each other in dismay. The message was clear.

The war had begun.