Quanwu Hall, a unique martial arts microcosm. Its societal environment deviates from the outside world, forming a world unto itself.

The arena, or leitai, is virtually ubiquitous infrastructure within Shenwu Hall. It was akin to the once-booming professional baseball leagues, where small baseball diamonds could be found everywhere, or like the intensely popular street basketball courts of yesteryear dotting every corner.

Beyond the scattered, smaller arenas, Shenwu Hall deliberately constructed several larger leitai to facilitate necessary selections and combat evaluations among its martial artists.

The arenas in the Outer Shenwu Hall share few significant differences with those in the Inner Shenwu Hall, save for slightly smaller spectator seating.

The circular leitai spans nearly a hundred meters in diameter. Its construction material is a specialized high-tech composite, bearing no resemblance to mere metal or stone; visually, it resembles dull, grayish cement. There are no railings around the edges to prevent falls, nor is there any soft carpeting.

Dark red flecks stain the gray composite material, alongside irregular crimson streaks. Approaching closer, one can distinctly perceive the metallic scent of **.

Qin Fen circled the arena softly. If Shenwu Hall wished to erase these mottled bloodstains, it would undoubtedly be an effortless task. Yet, they had not cleaned the marks left from every battle. This suggested a deliberate choice—a reminder to every martial artist that combat here was no social gathering; injury, severe wounding, even death, were all possibilities.

Qin Fen reached out and gently brushed the edge of the leitai. The icy coolness seeped through his palm into his body. The texture felt about seventy or eighty percent like cement, yet subtly different.

The weakest martial artists in Shenwu Hall possessed strength equivalent to at least Seven Stars. If the arena were truly constructed from reinforced concrete, a dedicated engineering crew would be required to maintain it perpetually.

Otherwise, after a single fierce engagement, the leitai could easily be riddled with holes, rendering it unusable for subsequent matches.

A short, sharp dragon’s roar vibrated through the air, carrying to the platform.

The martial artists of the Huhao Tower in the spectator stands instinctively straightened their backs, turning their gaze toward the distance.

The dragon’s cry still echoed. The figure of the Little Dragon King, Yang Lie, materialized within their line of sight.

Forgoing a clean, crisp martial uniform, Yang Lie wore a tattered one, which did nothing to diminish his heroic bearing; rather, it lent him a certain unique, striking aura.

Qin Fen observed Yang Lie closely. His companion, whom he hadn't seen for days, appeared slightly leaner, yet it didn't convey a sense of sickly frailty. Instead, it suggested a more compact, robust strength.

Standing casually in place, anyone facing Yang Lie felt the presence of a drawn sword without its scabbard—an aura sharp enough to cut, slicing through the very air and pricking the outer layers of the skin.

After many days apart, Yang Lie’s entire spirit seemed tempered by fire, presenting a feeling of utter renewal.

“Esteemed sirs, how have these days treated you all?” Yang Lie’s voice resonated like a great bell as he clasped his hands in a salute, pushing slightly forward. The young martial artists seated below felt an immediate wave of pressure surge towards them at the moment of his salute, causing a faint sense of oppression in their chests.

A spark lit in Qin Fen’s eyes. Yang Lie’s hand salute hadn't actually projected a true shockwave, but the sheer momentum of his presence created such an illusion. It seemed Asura’s intensive training had indeed resulted in a substantial boost to his overall capabilities in a short time.

Caesar, sensing the formidable offensive qi emanating from Yang Lie’s simple bow, chuckled and returned the gesture. “Little Dragon King, you weren't the only one enduring harsh cultivation during this period.”

Following this shared salute, the Inner Shenwu Hall martial artists who had arrived behind Yang Lie felt the hairs on their skin prickle, as if an unseen kinetic force was slamming towards them, threatening attack.

The two figures, opposite each other from a distance, simultaneously experienced a slight tremor running through their frames. Asura Fenghua Danyun emitted a low, slightly surprised hum.

In that brief greeting salute, Asura was astonished to find that the Little Dragon King Yang Lie, despite his recent rigorous training, had gained very little advantage; the clash of their dominant auras ended in a true stalemate.

Yang Lie’s eyes flared brightly. He was acutely aware of the difficulty of his recent spiritual practice and the extent of his own improvement.

Yet, in that momentary exchange of salutes, Yang Lie realized that Caesar, who had not undergone Asura’s specific training, had also undergone a monumental shift in his jing and shen!

Emperor Caesar, in that simple push of his hands, seemed to genuinely compel the mountains and rivers of the Nine Provinces to move forward—a grand, sweeping momentum suggesting that all the dominion of the world was his to command.

How could this be? Yang Lie’s brightened dragon eyes flickered with a star-like confusion, before swiftly shifting focus to Qin Fen.

For Caesar and the others to achieve such a rapid metamorphosis might be possible through the other leaders of Shenwu Hall. But these individuals had remained stationed in the foundational areas of the Outer Shenwu Hall. Transformation, under the current constraints of Shenwu Hall, seemed impossible; the only viable path pointed toward Qin Fen!

“Auras evenly matched?” The Little Dragon King Yang Lie stood perfectly still as a swirl of dust rose around his feet, and he ascended onto the leitai.

Fenghua Danyun of Asura let a happy smile grace her beautiful features. “The recent intensive training was not in vain. Aura is only one facet of martial arts. The final victory rests on the comprehensive strength of both sides.”

Yang Lie clasped his hands again. “We brothers need no superficial pleasantries. Today is about vying for the third rank within the team. Shall we employ the simplest method? We divide into pairs for simultaneous combat. The winners of those matches will face each other, and the losers will face each other. The final winner from the losers' bracket will then challenge the winner from the winners' bracket. Whoever prevails claims third place.”

“Agreed!”

Caesar’s preemptive shout was immediately followed by him leaping onto the leitai to stand opposite Yang Lie, their auras beginning to intertwine.

“Caesar, well said, but that doesn't grant you the right to test the newly returned Yang Lie, does it?”

Brooks’ voice reached everyone as he too stepped onto the platform. Though his battle saber remained sheathed, the chilling intent of the blade instantly sliced through the already interwoven auras.

With a metallic clang, a red spear pierced the arena floor, lodging deeply into it.

The spear trembled slightly where the shaft protruded from the ground; Morad had arrived on the leitai.

The silent Morad and the uncommunicative Solomon, each using their silence as a declaration, signaled to their companions that they were the true protagonists of this ranking match.

On the vast arena, the young martial artists regarded each other with unyielding gazes. In matters unrelated to status, yielding would be simple—they wouldn't hesitate to take a blade for a comrade on the battlefield. But here, it was about the internal ranking of Qin Fen’s small team; none could afford to concede.

A brief silence descended, broken only by the collective gaze snapping toward Qin Fen.

Asura Fenghua Danyun pouted her lovely lips, her beautiful eyes flickering with a hint of annoyance:

“Why not ask me to help arbitrate? I am, after all, the Chief of the Martial Discourse Department.”

The young martial artists on the platform let out chuckles. There was a word for their reaction: habit. They were accustomed to seeking Qin Fen’s resolution whenever an intractable dispute arose, never pausing to consider that martial artists of even greater strength stood nearby.

Who goes first? That was the question. Qin Fen felt the sharp focus of several pairs of eyes. He raised his hand and gently drew his index finger up and down beside the bridge of his nose; this hot potato, it seemed, could only be resolved by one of Squad Leader Hao’s ultimate techniques.

“We’ll play rock-paper-scissors.”

The surrounding spectators registered a sense of absurdity. This was the method proposed by the recognized leader of this new cohort?

Rock-paper-scissors? Fenghua Danyun’s clear eyes held a faint glimmer of appreciation. Rock-paper-scissors, in truth, was one of the fairest methods available.

Rock, paper, scissors.

Although the moment their hands moved seemed unified, achieving true synchronization without a difference of even a few hundredths of a second was nearly impossible; slight variations in speed always existed between them.

In that fleeting instant, discerning the subtle muscular shifts of the opponent to predict their next move was itself a test of martial skill.

The winner might not be the strongest overall, but the exercise nonetheless served as a minor form of assessment.

“Next,” Qin Fen continued, “everyone must close their eyes.”

Fenghua Danyun’s picturesque eyebrows arched slightly. Shutting down the two most critical senses—sight and hearing! This meant that observing their rivals during the action would rely solely on sensing the subtle fluctuations in the air caused by muscle movement just as they struck.

“And find some material to muffle your hearing.”

“Then, each of you will write down your chosen gesture in the palm of my hand.”

This? Fenghua Danyun’s expression of appreciation faltered. What was being tested here? Psychology and luck? Was this young man already incorporating fortune into the calculus of martial arts?

Fenghua Danyun’s gaze at Qin Fen shifted subtly again. In martial arts, the so-called ‘luck’ was divided into two main categories. One was true, random chance. For instance, if two fighters were locked in intense combat, and a meteor fell from the sky crushing one of them, that was genuine luck.

The other form of martial 'luck' was better described as a test of profound foundation. When Qin Fen defeated the fourteen-star martial artist of the Xinjing School that day, managing to luckily enter that specific state to unleash a strike beyond his apparent level, it was because his deep foundation allowed him to generate an aura akin to a sudden cosmic burst, securing victory.

This current game of rock-paper-scissors was a hybrid of both types of luck. Martial combat demanded prediction, anticipation of an enemy’s move, and foresight for the entire battle.

While Fenghua Danyun was deep in thought, the rock-paper-scissors contest among the younger men concluded, leaving Caesar and the Little Dragon King once more on the stage.

In terms of sheer fortune that moment, Caesar had edged out the others.

The Little Dragon King Yang Lie stood quietly, absorbing the light cast upon him by the spectators from all directions.

Through days of harsh training, he could now distinctly differentiate the specific emotion contained within every gaze directed at him: expectation, doubt, and even admiration and elation.

Yang Lie straightened his already rigid back slightly more. His eyes, once like stars, instantly transformed into two fully charged light bulbs, their initial depth gradually brightening.

In the blink of an eye, his gradually changing pupils became two bulbs pushed to their maximum voltage tolerance, radiating a sharp, piercing light.

The rosy complexion of Yang Lie’s face slowly shifted, becoming pale as if dusted with white powder. His heroic crimson lips began to change color, turning the purple hue associated with severe frostbite when consciousness is lost.

Under the light of the rising sun, Yang Lie offered no warmth; it was as if the figure on the stage was an iceberg that would never melt.

In that instant, the assembled martial artists, both Inner and Outer Shenwu Hall, knew that Yang Lie was vastly stronger than when he last fought—it was as if, in the span of a few days, he had become a warrior of an entirely different stratum.

Yang Lie’s cold gaze swept over the crowd, a frigidly confident smile touching the corners of his lips. His goal today was not merely to seize the third rank, but to demonstrate a power worthy of challenging Qin Fen. Such an exhibition, he clearly felt, was still insufficient.

Yang Lie’s chest suddenly swelled outward, and then he exhaled a forceful breath. A dragon’s roar erupted from his dantian, tearing through his throat and soaring toward the heavens—a sound capable of cleaving metal and shattering jade, carrying the domineering essence of a dragon, yet nuanced with the aloof majesty of a divine serpent seated above the clouds, viewing the masses as mere ants.

The roar had not yet faded when Yang Lie bent his knees slightly and sprang forward explosively. He executed a mid-air dive, followed by another leap from the ground. Three successive bounds made him look like a divine dragon tumbling through the clouds. Before the vibration from his landing could register, he had already left the impact point. Incredibly, this strange arena did not crack under the sheer force of his landings.

In three continuous ascents and descents, Yang Lie reached the center of the leitai. The sound of each footfall grew louder than the last—it was the rhythm of his impact syncing precisely with the lingering tremor of the previous one, creating that unique resonance.

Amidst his upward-gazing roar, visible plumes of white mist drifted forth—this was not merely due to internal temperature exceeding the chill of the morning on the islands. It was the freezing qi of the Xuanming Divine Art, which plunged far lower than the dawn temperatures of the islands!

The dragon’s roar crashed! Yang Lie stood firm as a mountain. Even the spectators felt their skin twitch under the assault of his sharp, biting aura. His frigid eyes seemed newly unleashed; indeed, during his entrance of roars and landings, Yang Lie resembled a primordial savage dragon, sealed for ages and only just freed.

In that instant, the Little Dragon King Yang Lie’s imposing presence climbed to a height he had never before attained! Many watching martial artists cast worried glances toward Caesar.

In mere moments, Yang Lie’s aura had forged an undeniable, unstoppable momentum. Many began to place his strength on par with Qin Fen’s own.

“Yang Lie!”

A sudden roar shattered the quiet beneath the arena. A martial artist strode forward and burst onto the platform, inserting himself directly between the two primary combatants.

The newcomer wore a purple martial uniform, clearly indicating he belonged to the Inner Shenwu Hall. His physique was balanced, as expected of most martial artists; his features were neither handsome nor ugly, yet etched with an indescribable expression. “Do you remember Oran Andress?”

Yang Lie’s gaze skimmed over the newcomer, but his focus remained fixed on the astonished and impressed Caesar. His two dragon-like eyebrows slowly knitted toward his brow as he spoke coldly, “I remember. A martial artist from the Azure Dragon Gate.”

“I heard that I also practice Dragon Fist, so he came looking specifically to cripple me—a lunatic. He was subsequently crippled in four limbs and sent to the hospital.”

“Very good! You still remember!” The newly arrived martial artist abruptly took a step forward.

“Then you also remember the words, ‘The Andress family members are all trash.’”

“I remember. I also remember Oran Andress claiming his pure aristocratic lineage meant I, a mere half-breed, was unqualified to represent the American newcomers in the tournament, and that the spot should have gone to him,” Yang Lie said, tilting his chin up, his heroic frame seeming to grow taller. “You bear a resemblance to him; I suppose you are here to avenge him? Why seek a pretext? A brother seeking vengeance for his sibling—that is reason enough.”

“Good! Very good! Remember my name: Chen Andress!”

In the spectator stands, a few Inner Shenwu Hall martial artists gasped softly. Chen Andress had not progressed rapidly during his training tenure at Shenwu Hall. Now twenty-five, he was only a Ten-Star martial artist.

However, he possessed a singular specialty: combat! In contests against peers, even those with slightly superior overall strength often succumbed to him.

A Fifteen-Star martial artist once commented on Chen Andress: his combat intuition was first-rate. It was a pity his natural talent wasn't better; otherwise, he would have founded his own sect.

A faint smile touched Yang Lie’s icy pupils, though the smile was instantly frozen by his glacial stare. “I have no interest in remembering the names of miscellaneous pawns.”

Pawns? Andress’s ten toes dug into the ground, and he launched his attack first. As he darted forward, his waist dipped slightly, bringing him before Yang Lie in an instant. His five fingers spread wide, his knuckles cracking rhythmically. This attack could easily gouge the heart out of not just a man, but a rhinoceros.

Close-Quarters Wolf Fang Claw!

Andress was considerably shorter and possessed shorter limbs than the Little Dragon King Yang Lie. Engaging at a distance would be a massive disadvantage; close-quarters fighting was his key to victory.

The close-range striking of Wolf Fist possessed the speed and deceptive nature of the Wolf’s Ambush.

With one upward step and one downward stomp, his front leg thrust directly between Yang Lie’s legs. He had grasped the spatial distance in combat with absolute precision—like a grassland wolf striking suddenly.

Just as the whistling rush of the wolf claw broke the air, the Little Dragon King Yang Lie flicked his right shoulder. A sound like a whip cracking through the air erupted, and his open right hand shot out to grasp Andress’s wolf claw.

Fingers interlaced as the palms met. Andress’s body shuddered violently. The long hairs on his extended right forearm, bearing the wolf claw, instantly seemed to frost over with a visible layer of white rime—the profound skill of the Xuanming Divine Art, a supreme technique, had seen considerable improvement under Asura’s ferocious training.

In the mere instant of contact, before Andress could fully integrate his internal energy and physical power for explosion, the ice-cold qi of Yang Lie’s Xuanming Divine Art had already seized his entire arm.

Immediately, a look of icy pain contorted Andress’s face. His internal qi seemed to freeze solid at that moment, and his body stiffened for less than half a second, as if utterly encased in a massive block of ice.

Yang Lie suddenly squeezed his fingers inward. The sound of shattering bone echoed from Andress’s palm, which lacked the protection of qi and strength, and dazzling blood spurted out.

With his qi paralyzed, most of Andress’s bodily nerves remained functional. The intense pain caused his expression to convulse again. Yang Lie lunged half a step closer, his back swinging out like an immovable, living wall—it was the Arhat Fist technique, "Turning Back to Lean on the Mountain."

The air compressed against the clothes stuck to Yang Lie’s ribs, sounding like the crisp hiss of ocean waves crashing ashore. This strike, the Turning Back to Lean on the Mountain, hit Andress’s chest like a mobile armored unit slamming home.

Bang! Andress’s body shot out like a fired cannonball, soaring nearly twenty meters before slamming heavily to the ground and rolling for another dozen meters before stopping.

Keen-eyed martial artists noticed that Andress’s sternum was visibly caved in. What he spat out, besides sprays of blood, was a desperate struggle for breath.

One move, one enemy neutralized! As a fellow Ten-Star martial artist, the Little Dragon King Yang Lie had utterly crippled his opponent—who had sought to tear out his heart and end his life—with a single maneuver.

Even the martial artists from the Outer Shenwu Hall could clearly sense that in that brief exchange, every movement Yang Lie made was imbued with an indescribable, effortless grace, as if he were fighting an opponent of only Four or Five Stars, not someone of the same rank.

The spectators offered only a few sharp cries, followed by calls for medical personnel using their badges. No one stepped forward to accuse Yang Lie of excessive force.

Those who had clearly witnessed the fight knew that Andress had initiated the exchange with deadly intent; no one could fault Yang Lie for his heavy response.

Caesar glanced sideways at the fallen Andress, his expression now tinged with admiration.

Before Yang Lie was taken by Asura for training, he could indeed defeat Andress, but to do so with such casual ease, crushing a peer with superior combat intuition so effortlessly, would have been utterly impossible.

In a short time, Little Dragon King Yang Lie had grown. And it was explosive growth! If facing Qin Fen's squad from a few days prior, perhaps only Qin Fen and Xue Tian could withstand the current Yang Lie for long.

Powerful! Yang Lie hadn't merely grown; forged by the tempering of Ashura, he had become truly mighty among the Ten-Star realm martial artists.

"Good! Good! Good!"

Caesar uttered the three words, and the expression blooming on his face held not a shred of fear; a joyful smile rapidly spread across his brow.

Caesar’s back straightened further, his shoulders slowly widening slightly. The skin covering his entire body let out a sound akin to a drawn bowstring at that moment, and his Caucasian complexion suddenly flushed a deep crimson. In the blink of an eye, the redness on his face was no less brilliant than the rising sun just clearing the horizon, as if his face were the world's second red sun. His entire aura became more vigorous, swallowing mountains and rivers in its might! He was like the First Emperor ascending Mount Tai for the Feng Shan sacrifice!

There was no great wind at the very beginning of dawn. Yet, Caesar's robes flapped loudly as if they were a great banner caught in a gale! This was the special effect caused by the New Nine Yang Divine Art, which Qin Fen created by synthesizing various supreme Yang martial arts. It was the heat current from his True Qi vaporizing the moisture in the air surrounding his body that caused the sound in his clothes, not the wind.

Caesar’s demeanor changed in that instant. A pair of golden eyes...

...stared piercingly at Yang Lie! His brow was filled with the imposing air of the heavens, earth, mountains, and rivers being completely under his command. Dragon King, so what? He commanded the mountains and rivers!

Both men walked paths far removed from the mundane. As their auras collided, their momentum climbed to realms neither had ever reached before.

"Yang Lie! With no disruptors now, let's begin! Let’s see if you, the True Dragon soaring through the nine heavens, can claim the third spot, or if I, the Emperor commanding the world, can ascend to that ranking!"

The kingly air of dominion over all things bloomed across Caesar's heroic face. He took a casual step forward, yet it gave the impression of swallowing mountains and rivers.

Just one step, and the auras between the two began to clash again. Even Qin Fen, observing below the arena floor, could feel the collision of these two forces.

The True Dragon against the Emperor! The extremely Yin and frigid Ice Dragon against the utmost Yang Emperor!

"The strength of these two young martial artists newly admitted to the Sacred Martial Hall is simply astonishing!" The martial artists from both the outer and inner Sacred Martial Halls in the audience whispered in amazement. Even without directly entering the fray, everyone could feel the pressure generated by the clash of their auras.

"Caesar’s aura is not inferior to Yang Lie's in the slightest?" Astonishment rippled across Fenghua Danyun’s autumn-water eyes. The strangest thing was his True Qi growth; it seemed like the Nine Yang Divine Art, yet somehow different. It was this difference in True Qi that seemed to have brought about a powerful transformation in his entire being. Qin Fen examined Yang Lie repeatedly, his admiration growing. It seemed Ashura’s training truly had unique merits. His meticulous effort in helping Caesar revise his internal cultivation had allowed his previous foundations to erupt and integrate during this revision, causing his True Qi, which should have been growing slowly, to suddenly experience a significant leap.

Unexpectedly, even with such advantages, Caesar still seemed unable to gain any upper hand.

Rumble!

A fierce wind suddenly swept across the arena! A thunderous cannon blast echoed from the earth again!

As Caesar moved, his True Qi surged wildly throughout his body. Following this surge, he broke through the air, charging toward Little Dragon King Yang Lie. His massive fist struck out like a seal, stirring up a wind that shook the Divine Province.

This was the Emperor’s Fist Technique: "Annihilation of Nine Generations!"

Caesar, the Emperor temporarily lying low beside Qin Fen, demonstrated at this moment his inherent tyrannical fierceness.

This "Annihilation of Nine Generations" combat style bore a strong resemblance to the "Eight Gods Dragon Challenging Wind and Cloud" in Qin Fen’s Martial Emperor Dragon Fist. The pressure generated by the sealing punch that smashed down in an instant made one feel as if the very heavens were collapsing. The explosive sound of air shattering made everyone’s chest painfully tight.

"The punch power of 'Annihilation of Nine Generations' creates a unique sensation, which is utter desolation!"

What in the world could be more desolate than the annihilation of nine generations?

As Caesar charged, the oppressive aura on his body merged entirely into his fist, causing a dry sensation in the nostrils and mouth—yes, dryness! The special effect of the New Nine Yang Divine Art even bore a slight resemblance to the scorching nature of the New Martial Art, Lava Skill.

With merely the first punch, Caesar had integrated almost all of his martial arts skills.

Martial artist combat was never about one side using 'Phoenix Faces the Sun' and the other responding with 'Black Tiger Steals the Heart,' followed by a 'Mighty Chop of Mount Hua' against a 'Overlord Lifts the Tripod,' dragging the fight out for half a day like children playing house.

Only when the surrounding martial artists watching grew bored would they deploy their ultimate moves to decide the victor.

If a fight could be decided in one move, there would absolutely be no second attack! Both sides’ auras and True Qi were pushed to the extreme; naturally, there would be no second move.

If anyone held the thought that their second move would be their ultimate technique, then that person had already lost!

"Annihilation of Nine Generations?" The instant Caesar moved, Yang Lie knew what his companion was about to unleash. His eyelids twitched sharply, and his expression instantly became more resolute.

His feet stomped the ground heavily!

"Dragon Cannon!" The fierce image of Qin Fen's peerless, brutal assault technique flashed through Caesar’s mind!

Yang Lie’s body trembled, and the fierce dragon burst forth, charging toward Caesar without yielding an inch!

Just as the two launched their attacks, a figure suddenly flew out from the first row of the audience seating! This figure moved with extreme speed. The instant the seat beneath his feet was stomped and shattered into dust, the person had already burst onto the stage.

The moment this person's feet touched the ground, his shoulders violently shook, and he spread his arms like a Golden-Winged Great Peng Bird soaring through the nine heavens. With a piercing cry that broke metal and stone, he rushed in ahead of the pair, diving into the very center of the final explosive point of their battle.

At this moment, both Caesar and Yang Lie had maximized their strength; drawing back was simply impossible.

If they forcefully withdrew, they could only retract about half their power, which would severely injure their bodies and leave permanent martial arts handicaps.

Unable to stop, and incapable of stopping, the two mightiest fists slammed fiercely into the suddenly appearing shadow.

Boom!

The utmost Yang fists met the two streams of utmost Yin and frigid True Qi at extremely close range. The air erupted in visible shockwaves, and the massive explosion sounded like a hundred cannons firing in unison! Even a colossal thunderclap in the sky would have been drowned out by the sound of the power unleashed by the pair.

Many martial artists in the audience sucked in a cold breath, letting out strange cries, and promptly closed their eyes, unwilling to look at the martial artist at the center of the battle.

The full-power attacks of these two men, let alone a person, could utterly shatter and flatten even an iron man!

The counter-impact shockwaves were still surging, and sweat droplets generated by the full-power bursts on their arms flew away from their bodies, sizzling as they rubbed against the air—a force no less potent than actual throwing knives.

Before the rolling sound waves had even ceased, the crowd heard a low voice from the arena: "Not satisfying. Not satisfying! Didn't someone just want to fight for this so-called third place? The rest of you, come up together! Let's see if you can make me genuinely excited."

"Wow? Little Madman?" Fenghua Danyun's eyes curved into crescents: "Can't hold it in so soon?"

The other martial artists in the audience collectively gasped. The person who just rushed onto the stage was alive! The one who survived that ferocious pincer attack was none other than the Martial Madman, rumored in the Sacred Martial Hall to be the most likely future Divine Beast-level martial artist!

"So this is the Martial Madman?" Qin Fen directed his gaze toward the person standing between the other two on the stage.

Friends advised me, saying many people in the comment section claim you are sick, so I should just use being hospitalized as an excuse. I feel lying is meaningless; what is what it is. There is no need to claim a bottleneck is due to sickness to deceive people. I truly hit a bottleneck some time ago, and the glorious and resolute task of manufacturing water is not suitable for me.