The sun rose again, and Qin Fen hastily finished breakfast before joining the others at the lottery site for the New Recruit Tournament.

Martial Arts Combat was, without a doubt, one of the hottest topics of the era.

It wasn't just that the military had designated the combat portion of the New Recruit Tournament as the main event; martial contests frequently appeared in other Federal activities as well. In the quadrennial Five-Star Federal Olympics, martial arts had supplanted track and field as the absolute centerpiece. Even the once-dominant quadrennial World Cup soccer tournament had faded into history, eclipsed by the rapid rise of the quadrennial Assembly of Heroes.

As the highlight of the New Recruit Tournament, the venue chosen was not the initial pistol shooting range, but a massive stadium capable of holding eighty thousand spectators. Although the "King of Combat" title in this New Recruit Tournament could not rival the influence of the Assembly of Heroes, the opening match still drew over thirty thousand attendees.

The various contestants quickly formed a small formation in the center of the arena. As the host faction for this grand event, the European Military Region dispatched a General to preside over the opening ceremony of the martial arts competition.

In a crisp military uniform, with silver threading his temples, the General held his speech script and declared passionately from the stage: "Since humanity entered the near-interstellar age, we no longer face merely one Earth, but the boundless cosmos. Many planets suitable for us do not possess naturally favorable environments; they must be transformed and governed by our own hands, molded into environments 100% suitable for human habitation. As soldiers, we must always prioritize the interests of the masses, preparing for the worst. Should we encounter hostile, unknown life forms during interstellar voyages, we bear an even greater responsibility to protect our people. Therefore..."

Zhao Huzi, sitting next to the General, stifled a yawn. A quick glance from the corner of his eye showed Major General Will from the Americas also stifling a bored yawn. Every opening address for the martial arts segment of the New Recruit Tournament, while varying slightly in wording, always carried the same essential message. The Major Generals from the various continents had already witnessed the opening speeches from previous tournaments and simply lacked the interest to listen to the European General’s seemingly impassioned oration.

Military enthusiasts who had watched several past tournaments simply pulled out their headphones and started listening to music players they carried to pass the time. Those who forgot their portable music players regretted leaving behind such essential gear while eagerly watching the sixty-four new recruits assembling on the field.

Sixty-four new recruits from five military regions—the Americas Military Region, as the defending champion, could only send twelve—meant the other four regions each sent thirteen contestants. Qin Fen quietly observed those around him; he didn't recognize most of the recruits from other continents, nor did he know every single participant from East Asia.

These sixty-four recruits were touted as the sixty-four strongest new combatants on Earth. Qin Fen wondered who his first opponent would be.

The draw was entirely a matter of luck. He might draw a relatively weak opponent, or he might hit a jackpot and immediately face a powerhouse on the level of the rumored European "Great Emperor" Caesar. According to intelligence, before Caesar even enlisted, he had received an invitation from the "Sacred Martial Hall." Receiving such an invitation meant he was qualified to bypass mandatory service and retain his citizenship. Yet, this "Great Emperor" Caesar did not immediately head to the Sacred Martial Hall; instead, he sent a letter requesting a postponement, choosing the path already set: military enlistment!

The Sacred Martial Hall was virtually the holy land in the eyes of almost every martial artist. For a martial artist to resist the allure of the Sacred Martial Hall's great fame, what kind of resolute heart must he possess? A martial artist with such firm conviction could never be a weakling.

The soldier’s speech, though somewhat cliché, still adhered to the military pursuit of efficiency; it concluded very quickly.

A giant electronic projection screen materialized in the sky above the arena. The sixty-four individuals would be divided into two halves, an upper and a lower bracket, each containing thirty-two participants. The top recruits from these two halves would then meet in the final showdown to determine the "King of Combat" for this session.

A black box containing sixty-four numbered balls rolled gently, the crisp sound of the spheres colliding echoing. The box containing the sixty-four numbered spheres was set down after a brief rotation, thoroughly hooking the excitement of the audience, who became eager to see the results of the draw.

The aura of the new recruit formation shifted noticeably at that instant. As the determination of their opponents approached, the previously unruffled hearts of the recruits registered a faint ripple of tension.

The official overseeing the drawing ceremony waved gently toward the formation of new recruits. Standing at the very front of the formation were the soldiers from the Americas Military Region, the reigning champions from the previous New Recruit Tournament.

Little Dragon King Yang Lie was the first to approach the black box, reaching in to pull out a glass sphere, which he raised high. The cameramen broadcasting the event immediately zoomed in on the sphere in Yang Lie’s hand, giving it an extreme close-up. As the close-up appeared on the projection screen, the thirty thousand spectators erupted in cheers.

Number one! Little Dragon King Yang Lie, being the very first to draw, had inexplicably pulled the number one! Many spectators had already purchased the member guide for this New Recruit Combat Tournament, where Little Dragon King Yang Lie was listed first, one of the standout members of the top group favored to win. Initially, the audience had worried the opening matches might be too dull, but with the participation of the Little Dragon King, the thirty thousand seats transformed from [censored] to ***.

The second person to step up for the draw was not an American recruit, but someone emerging from the European ranks. To ensure fairness, the drawing adopted a rotational system, with one new recruit from each continent drawing in turn.

Caesar had not let his golden long hair down today; instead, he had tied it high at the back of his head, revealing a face sculpted with the craftsmanship of a marble artist. It was a handsome visage brimming with masculine energy, his sapphire-like eyes radiating martial vigor, in no way inferior to Little Dragon King Yang Lie, who had just drawn.

Number forty-five. The crystalline glass bead was instantly zoomed in on, rotating gently on the projection screen. Thirty thousand spectators gasped in unison. "Great Emperor" Caesar was in the lower bracket; seeing an exciting confrontation between him and "Little Dragon King" Yang Lie would only be possible if both fought their way to the final match.

East Asia, having placed third overall, was next in line according to the rotation, meaning Qin Fen was pushed to the forefront and had to step up for the draw. Looking at the black box, Qin Fen placed his hand inside.

Thirty-two. Qin Fen looked at the number and chuckled softly. The numbers representing the very start and very end of the entire bracket had already been drawn—this lottery was proving quite interesting.

Moradchek stepped out from the West Asian contingent. His eyes had barely left Qin Fen until the moment he stood before the drawing box. He then clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and murmured something under his breath, as if praying for something. People assumed he was praying not to draw number two, or number forty-six, but only those close enough could hear the single number he repeatedly chanted: Thirty-one!

Sixty-three. Seeing this number, Moradchek’s expression darkened slightly. This number meant he was assigned to the lower bracket, in the same sector as Qin Fen. If they were to meet, there was only one path: fight their way up! Fight all the way to the finals!

The drawing continued, and with every new recruit mentioned in the guide taking the stage, the crowd let out a gasp of surprise. The sixty-four numbers were quickly exhausted.

"Old Qin, starting today, I’ve decided to believe in God," Xue Tian said cheerfully, drawing a cross over his chest. "Before I drew, I kept praying to God that I wouldn't be placed in the same half as you, and sure enough, I ended up in the lower bracket."

Qin Fen felt the sympathetic gazes directed at him from new recruits of other continents almost entirely focused on Jizhen Xuanyi beside him; even the other East Asian recruits looked at Jizhen Xuanyi with pity. Luck, truly, was unpredictable.

Number two, the number for the opening match. Before the draw even began, many new recruits had hoped to draw this number. The opening match, the very first bout of the New Recruit Combat Tournament, would ensure that even if the participant failed to win the title of New Recruit King of Combat, they would be remembered by many because of this special contest. However, the moment Little Dragon King Yang Lie drew number one, almost all the participating recruits hoped desperately not to draw number two. Once Little Dragon King Yang Lie secured number one, most knew that facing him as an opponent meant merely becoming a stepping stone for his debut. In this world, nobody enjoyed being a stepping stone.

Yet, Jizhen Xuanyi's luck was so perverse that he drew this near-cursed number. Qin Fen knew Jizhen Xuanyi’s strength well. Though he hadn't fought Little Dragon King Yang Lie, he knew Xuanyi’s chances of winning were virtually zero.

Qin Fen sighed softly, patting Jizhen Xuanyi’s shoulder in comfort. "Fight well. Losing doesn't mean everything. What matters most is that you fight a process worth winning."

Jizhen Xuanyi stared blankly at Qin Fen, the lost and low look in his eyes gradually regaining a spark. He mumbled quietly, "A process worth winning, a process worth winning."

"Little Xuanzi," Xue Tian said, putting an arm around Jizhen Xuanyi's shoulder. "Let me tell you, you should look at it this way: Little Dragon King is nothing! Facing him is much better than facing Old Qin, right?"

Jizhen Xuanyi’s eyes instantly shone brighter. Yes! Facing the Little Dragon King was definitely better than facing Qin Fen!

The other new recruits began retreating toward their designated areas, preparing to watch the upcoming opening match. Jizhen Xuanyi looked at Qin Fen. "Master, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"This..." Qin Fen pondered briefly, then smiled. "It doesn't matter who the opponent is. What matters is fighting the kind of battle you desire."

"Old Qin, hurry up and get off the field," Xue Tian said quietly, patting Qin Fen's shoulder. "According to tradition, the second match after the opener is always number thirty-two versus number thirty-one. Jizhen Xuanyi probably won't last long; you should adjust your mindset and prepare for your match."

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