The atmosphere at the site of the Dharma Assembly remained tense late into the night, with people constantly leaving only to be immediately replaced by a fresh wave of onlookers eager to watch.

“Uh, is there anyone in the audience willing to step up and challenge this Uncle Shi Bingyuan? It’s nearly midnight. If no one comes forward now, we’ll call it a truce for the day, and he automatically advances to the next round,” the supervisor on stage announced loudly under the brilliant lamps.

Before long, Zhou Huan felt a presence moving towards him through the crowd. The figure stopped beside him, a large hand reaching out to clamp tightly onto Zhou Huan’s shoulder. Then, a calm voice spoke, “Master Zhou, your disciple has quite the skill. I came especially with my esteemed company to liven things up for you!”

Hearing that Heshen had arrived, Zhou Huan immediately turned around. Seeing Heshen indeed standing there, he bowed, “Greetings, Lord He.”

Heshen, puffing out his belly, waved a hand dismissively. “No need for formalities, Master Zhou. Your disciple is well-managed. It seems I am getting ever closer to acquiring that grand pipe for the Great Tobacco Pouch.”

“Thank you, My Lord, for praising my young student. However, it seems at this hour, fewer contestants are arriving for the competition,” Zhou Huan analyzed.

For the moment, Heshen was relatively amicable, not yet displaying the malevolence attributed to him in history. But at this juncture, he didn't fuss over trivialities and sat down with Zhou Huan at the viewing table.

“Whoosh!” A figure suddenly shot up from the crowd and onto the fighting platform.

Shi Bingyuan sat motionless in the center of the stage. Hearing someone ascend, he didn't react at all, continuing his meditation to regulate his qi.

When the common folk below realized a challenger had taken the stage, nearly two layers of people surged forward again, eager to see if Shi Bingyuan was truly invincible, or if someone could finally surpass him.

“Someone under Zhou Huan, huh? Hmph. Zhou Huan is nothing, and it seems you are nothing too, just sitting there. I just finished eating and came up. Has no one else stepped up?” the newcomer demanded.

Shi Bingyuan offered no reply, but the qi within his palm began to swirl, gradually turning his palm ruddy. Soon, a dense white vapor could be seen rising from his hand.

“Ooh, very pretty. Let me change the color for you!” As the man on stage spoke, he snatched the rising white vapor from Shi Bingyuan’s palm directly into his own hand. He then rubbed his hands together and flicked them, sending a green ball soaring high into the air.

At that instant, Zhou Huan saw clearly: this fellow was using sleight of hand, an illusion technique. In reality, none of Shi Bingyuan’s qi had been wasted; it was simply that the opponent’s technique was genuinely like magic, leaving the eye unable to discern what the actual object was.

Shi Bingyuan slowly opened his eyes and laughed out loud toward the challenger, “To use illusionist parlor tricks in a competition, you must have some nerve. Is this a place for magicians to win? Be smart and leave quickly, or you might leave here permanently.”

Shi Bingyuan’s words were harsh, but the challenger merely offered a faint smile. “You can manipulate qi, and so can I. Let me show you!” With that, the bloody energy erupting from the man’s body flared quickly, the veins on his face instantly bulging. The white vapor he exhaled transformed under his control, first into a red gas, and then moments later, into a green gas. As the gas shifted again, Shi Bingyuan felt a distinct dizziness coming over him.

“Kid, you’re using foul play! What you’re spitting is poison,” Shi Bingyuan instantly sensed something was wrong. He immediately held his breath, spun around, and slapped a talisman paper outward. “Give up, and see what this is!”

Shi Bingyuan had actually summoned over a dozen souls who had died from poison to deal with the man before him. As the ghosts surrounded the challenger, the man on stage stood firm and motionless, stating, “My name is Lichun. The four of us brothers are here to perform for His Majesty. If you stand in our way, be warned: the next four matches will likely be difficult for you regardless of whom you fight. I advise you to withdraw!”

Shi Bingyuan looked out toward the audience. Beneath Lichun, there were several other figures similarly dressed. They all appeared battle-hardened, each harboring secrets beneath their garments.

It was because of this realization that Shi Bingyuan hesitated to attack Lichun directly. His aim was to gauge the extent of the man's methods. But no matter what, he couldn't gain the upper hand. There was only one way: to engage this fellow in a real fight. If they continued to exchange qi, his own genuine internal energy would soon be depleted, and then he would truly have to step down.

“Fine, Lichun. Let’s get on with it. It’s late, and no one else is coming up. We might as well put on a good show. That way, the audience won't be disappointed. We’ll finish quickly; this isn’t very interesting,” Shi Bingyuan said, unleashing the energy field from his hands. His hands became his weapons, delivering pure force.

The other man merely curled his lip in mockery, pushed out a hand, and engaged Shi Bingyuan in combat.

The two fought fiercely. After nearly ten minutes, Shi Bingyuan deliberately exposed a flaw, falling backward while simultaneously driving his feet upward, sending Lichun flying off the stage.

“Ouch, you little cheat!” Lichun tried to speak, but found himself already standing below the platform. “You scoundrel, playing dirty! See how my senior brother deals with you next time!” Zhou Huan found the look on Lichun’s face quite amusing, and Heshen, watching from the side, was also clearly enjoying himself. Heshen then said something to Zhou Huan.

“Zhou Huan, have your disciple put on a more exciting show. After the next match, I’m heading back to sleep. It’s getting too late!” Zhou Huan glanced at the sky; indeed, it was nearing midnight.

“My Lord, rest assured, I will tell him immediately!” As he spoke, Zhou Huan walked down from the viewing area. First, he helped the fallen Lichun to his feet. Then, he beckoned Shi Bingyuan from below the stage. “Bingyuan, make the next fight look brilliant. Use more of your Qi Arts. My Lord is watching; we can’t afford to botch this!”

“Don’t worry, Master, I still have enough stamina!” Shi Bingyuan replied, then turned and returned to the center of the ring. He sat cross-legged and began regulating his qi again. Zhou Huan turned and walked back to his seat.

“My Lord, I have spoken with him.”

“Hmm. But why isn't anyone else coming up to challenge?” Heshen inquired.

Zhou Huan explained, “They are registering the next participant on stage right now; it should be finished shortly.”

Sure enough, not long after, one of Lichun’s crew, named Lidong, finished registering and immediately darted onto the stage, attacking without preamble.

Shi Bingyuan, holding a handful of talismans, lit them and flung them everywhere. Then, the true qi in his hands began to spin—this time, the display was truly magnificent, sparking brilliant flares across the area. As the true qi from Shi Bingyuan’s hands danced wildly around Lidong, the entire scene momentarily transformed into a massive fireball conjured by pure qi, which was genuinely spectacular to behold.

Heshen sipped his tea and let out a long yawn. “I’m tired. Steward, let’s go. We won’t watch anymore; we can hear the results tomorrow.” Then Heshen pointed a finger at Zhou Huan, “You, you must fight tomorrow!” Following this, he departed, escorted by a contingent of soldiers. Now Zhou Huan had received a direct order; whether he wanted to or not, he had to step onto the stage tomorrow—at least to go through the motions.

Smoothly, Shi Bingyuan defeated all four of Lichun’s brothers, managing to gather a total of ten matches. Shi Bingyuan fought continuously until the following morning, thus successfully advancing.

Subsequently, the organizers of the Assembly arranged two more matches, neither of which saw the combatants stand their ground for long; most failed after only two or three rounds.

It wasn't until the afternoon of the next day that Zhou Huan, having sat below the stage for a full day and night, finally felt wide awake. Watching a participant on stage who had already completed five consecutive matches without leaving, Zhou Huan felt eager to compete. Shi Bingyuan, who had slept soundly on his chair all night, stepped forward to stop Zhou Huan when he saw his master preparing to take the stage. “Master, no, let me continue. You should rest!”

“No need. If I rest any longer, we’ll both be kicked out!” Zhou Huan said, preparing to stand and move to the stage. However, before he could ascend, an old man suddenly flew from the audience directly onto the stage. This elder appeared to be nearly seventy years old, dressed in a short tunic, his braid completely white. Upon reaching the stage, he didn't attack but simply stood still, gazing out at the audience.

“May I ask which one is Master Zhou Huan?” the man on stage inquired. Hearing this, Zhou Huan felt a moment of disorientation. He scrutinized the old man on the platform again; he didn't recognize him. Who was this?

“Which one is Master Zhou Huan? If you please, step forward, this old man has something to discuss!”

Zhou Huan realized there was no point in hiding now. He stood up, strode forward, and called out loudly, “It is I. May I ask what business this elder has with me?”

The elder on stage looked Zhou Huan over carefully, then declared, “A fine Zhou Huan indeed. No wonder you command a seat in the front row. Very well, we shall compete shortly!”

“This…”

“What? Are you afraid?” the elder taunted.

At this point, the challenger currently on stage, standing behind the elder, grew indignant. “Hey, old man! Do you take me for a ghost? Did you defeat me already? You’re just going to challenge the next one?” The man behind him spoke while launching an attack toward the elder.

The elder remained unruffled, extending a single hand with lightning speed, gripping the attacker by the chest. With one push and a subsequent kick, the attacker flew horizontally off the stage. He landed below, fortunately caught by Zhou Huan, otherwise his head might have hit the ground first, which would have been a truly terrible fate if he had died.

“Alright, Master Zhou, there is no one left on stage now. Shall we begin our contest?” the elder said with an air of complete ease.

Zhou Huan looked at the man who had just flown off the stage, his mouth frothing with white foam. Then he looked at the chest of the man who had been knocked down—it was dark purple, bearing five long, distinct marks.