Chapter Twenty-Three: Advancing to the Top Ten

The third round of the competition began, and this time, Chen Yi was fortunate enough to draw an opponent with only the seventh level of Qi Refinement, whom he defeated with ease.

Time passed quickly, and after Chen Yi effortlessly defeated five disciples in a row, the elders in the viewing stands began to take notice of him, regarding him as they would a genius among the elite disciples of the outer sect.

In the matches that followed, Chen Yi dispatched his opponents without difficulty. However, in his final match, he encountered Wang Long—Wang Hu’s elder brother, one of the previous top ten in the outer sect competition, and a contestant who had already secured nine consecutive victories, needing only this last win.

This match was of great importance to both Chen Yi and Wang Long, for not only was victory at stake, but they were also enemies. Wang Long’s gaze toward Chen Yi grew ever more hostile.

“Heh, let me put an end to your run in this tournament and avenge my brother Wang Hu,” Wang Long sneered, drawing the long sword at his waist and striking at Chen Yi.

Though Wang Long was extremely arrogant, his strength was undoubtedly among the best of the outer sect: he was at the ninth level of Qi Refinement, and in the last competition, he had secured a commendable tenth place.

Yet to Chen Yi, Wang Long’s strength was still lacking. With the power of the Heavenly Dragon bloodline and his mastery of the first layer of the Dragon Elephant Art, even at its minor accomplishment, he could contend with cultivators at the very peak of the ninth level of Qi Refinement.

Wang Long, though at the ninth level, had only just entered it. Compared to true masters at the pinnacle of this realm, he was worlds apart—not a real threat.

With his formidable strength, Chen Yi could easily defeat Wang Long; there was no chance Wang Long could best him and avenge Wang Hu.

“Rainbow Pierces the Sun.”

With this move from the Illusory Light Sword Art, Chen Yi launched his attack on Wang Long.

Three streaks of sword light sped toward Wang Long, passing through his own sword and aiming straight for his chest.

Wang Long, unfazed by the strange swordplay, was prepared—he had already heard from other disciples about the peculiarity of Chen Yi’s sword techniques.

Seeing the sword light approaching, Wang Long gathered all his inner spiritual energy and condensed it before his chest, forming an armored shield to defend against Chen Yi’s attack. With a resounding crash, the sword light struck the armor.

After the collision, the armor on Wang Long’s chest remained unscathed. The armor formed from the entirety of a ninth-level cultivator’s spiritual energy was not so easily broken.

Realizing that his own sixth-level Qi Refinement alone would not suffice to breach Wang Long’s defense, Chen Yi activated the Dragon Elephant Art, combining the strength of his body and true qi, and slashed once more at Wang Long.

Faced with another of Chen Yi’s attacks, Wang Long knew he could not block it with his sword, nor could his sword light pierce his own defense, so he simply let the sword light strike him.

He had not anticipated, however, the tremendous force contained within the sword light—it crashed over him like a surging flood breaching a dike. In a panic, Wang Long unleashed his trump card: the Bloodburning Art.

The Bloodburning Art was a self-destructive technique, burning one’s own blood to fuel a surge in combat power—the more blood burned, the greater the strength gained.

Previously, Wang Long had refrained from seeking revenge for Wang Hu, focusing instead on cultivating this technique, as it consumed too much vitality to use casually.

Even so, unleashing the Bloodburning Art could not change the outcome; Wang Long had underestimated Chen Yi’s attack, and by the time he reacted, it was already too late.

None of the watching disciples had expected that Wang Long, one of the top ten outer sect disciples, would be so easily defeated by Chen Yi.

After ten rounds, the ten disciples with the highest scores had emerged—all of them undefeated after ten matches.

Chen Yi was among these ten. Aside from him, the others were all ranked in the previous top ten, but because Wang Long—the former fifth place—had been defeated by Chen Yi, he had no hope of making the top ten this time, and would have to contend for the eleventh place with the remaining disciples.

Of the ten, all but Chen Yi had reached the ninth level of Qi Refinement. Though Chen Yi was only at the sixth level, his strength was undeniable—he had even bested Wang Long, last tournament’s tenth place—so no one voiced any objections.

Once the top ten were determined, an elder soared from the viewing stands into the air above the many arenas, transforming the hundred white jade platforms into ten enormous stages, arranged in order before the assembled disciples.

The elder then announced the rules for determining the final rankings: “Ten arenas, from first to tenth. Each of you may enter the arena corresponding to your rank. You each have a chance to challenge and seize another’s arena; the victor claims the defeated’s platform. Continue until the rankings from first to tenth are decided. The competition begins now.”

Chen Yi and the other nine soared toward the arenas matching their respective abilities. The others went to the first through ninth arenas, leaving the tenth to Chen Yi, who did not mind—after all, everything would be decided by strength in the end.

No sooner had he set foot on the stage than the first challenge was issued: the disciple from the ninth arena challenged the sixth.

The challenger was Yang Tie, who excelled with the long spear and had placed ninth in the previous tournament. To dare challenge the sixth arena, he must have acquired some trump card that greatly increased his confidence.

For this tournament, Yang Tie had sealed his cultivation and spent several months honing his skills on the battlefield of the mortal world, facing countless brushes with death until he mastered the Flying Dragon Spear Technique. Only then did he break the seal and return to the sect.

The defender on the sixth arena was Ou Ming, a fan-wielding, elegantly dressed youth standing at the center like a noble scion.

Ou Ming had taken sixth place in the last tournament. He had not expected to be the first challenged, and by a former defeated opponent at that, which put him in a foul mood. Nevertheless, bound by the rules, he could not refuse.

Yang Tie strode through the air to the sixth arena, exuding a fierce, iron-blooded aura, spear in hand, standing opposite Ou Ming. His weapon was seven feet long, with a golden edge and a wooden shaft—he looked every inch a general returning from war.

Opposite him, Ou Ming smiled faintly, gently fanning himself, appearing the very image of a refined noble, showing none of a martial master’s bearing. Yet Yang Tie’s fierce aura vanished the moment it reached him—a testament to Ou Ming’s own formidable strength.

The watching disciples speculated eagerly: in this clash between the battle-hardened general and the elegant noble, who would emerge victorious?