The singers who reach the stage of the Jishang Juesai all possess formidable vocal prowess. While the singers of the Gexing race consider this merely a small local competition, it still surpasses many of the highest-level concerts in the Solar System. This is partly because Gexing people are naturally gifted with excellent voices, and partly because singing is deeply woven into every facet of their lives, creating an overall environment far superior to that of the Solar System.

Naturally, the Gexing people currently on stage lacked spiritual power and had not cultivated Geyin. Though stronger than humans, the difference wasn't yet astronomical. Recalling the boundless, ethereal sound he heard when listening to Jiayouna’s concert on Ceres in the Solar System, Yang Ying felt that the singing of these Gexing people was merely above average in comparison.

Yang Ying mused, "It’s no wonder that when Earthlings heard Jiayouna’s voice, they felt the echoes lingered for days, and afterwards, other concerts felt tasteless and dull. Having seen the sea, little water suffices; the disparity in skill is just too vast. However, that insect near the entrance of the concert hall just now—I wonder if it was friend or foe."

In a secret room at the other end of the city, a figure entirely wrapped in black cloth, like a mummy, stared at a blank screen devoid of signal. He let out a cold laugh, "Finally found him. He really came. Sol."

The figure stood up and left the secret room, navigating the winding corridors until he reached a tightly closed door. He bowed and reported, "My Lord, just as the intelligence predicted, the Earthling Yang Ying has appeared."

Inside the room, from the empty darkness, a low voice inquired, "Where?"

"He is in the city's concert hall. The address is—" The figure recited the location of the concert hall.

"Did your surveillance cause him any alarm?" the voice behind the door asked.

"He destroyed my surveillance bug, but he shouldn't know it was I who was monitoring him," the black-clad figure replied respectfully.

"Hmph! I knew that with your meager abilities, trying to monitor a peak Level Three master would be as conspicuous as lighting a torch in the pitch-black wilderness. Nevertheless, you have done well enough. Retire." The voice in the room commanded.

"Yes." The black-clad figure straightened up but hesitated, reluctant to leave.

"What is it?" the person in the room asked. "Why haven't you gone? Is there a problem?"

The black-clad figure bowed again, "My Lord, you were injured by that Yang Ying last time. To seek him out now..."

"Insolent!" The door burst open violently, and a powerful gust of energy slammed the figure against the corridor wall. The figure struggled to breathe, barely able to utter a sound, managing only a muffled cry or two. From the darkness within the room, a figure slowly emerged. "Do you, a mere underling, dare to question the affairs of this Lord?"

"I dare not," the subordinate managed to reply stiffly.

"Enough! If I didn't need someone to run errands for me on the planet Sol, just for that careless talk, I would subject you to every torture in the universe and then kill you in the most agonizing way imaginable. You've earned a reprieve. Remember in the future what words you may utter and what you must keep silent." The person in the room was Tarlen, the assassin Yang Ying had wounded and forced to retreat on Veda Star. Hearing the black-clad man touch upon his raw wound, he erupted in fury.

"Subordinate, subordinate will remember, will definitely remember," the black-clad man promised repeatedly.

"Get out!" The energy wave ceased, and the black-clad man dropped to the floor, gasping heavily. Not daring to linger a moment longer, he scrambled away on all fours.

The figure in the room gradually dissolved into the void. A low voice seemed to murmur to itself, "I, Tarlen, am the King of Assassins; I am never a reckless brute who fights head-on. The gap in strength is not the main issue; the crucial thing is to utilize every favorable factor to kill the target... Back then, when I was only Level Three, I could kill a peak Level Three figure. Now that we are both at peak Level Three, why should I worry about killing that Yang Ying?! Hahaha!"

The Gexing participants in the finals took the stage one after another. The competition was already nearing its halfway point. Another contestant finished their song, feeling quite pleased with their performance, and happily stepped off the stage.

"Next up is Hilna. I hope nothing goes wrong. I pray Grandmother watches over her and allows Hilna to perform normally," Feilin murmured, closing her eyes and clasping her hands over her chest in silent prayer.

"Grandmother? You mean the Gexing guardian deity, Lady Yafay?" Yang Ying asked.

"Of course. Besides that Grandmother, who else can possibly bless our poor Hilna right now?" Feilin replied as a matter of course.

Amidst applause, Hilna walked out from behind the stage. It was clear her expression was strained, her steps uneven, and she seemed to be trembling slightly. She kept her head down, taking one step after another. She finally reached the center of the stage and lifted her head just a little. When she glanced at the audience, she immediately lowered it again, her breathing becoming rapid.

"It’s over. This girl is stage fright again," Feilin sighed mournfully.

The Captain patted his forehead and shook his head, "This child, really..."

Yang Ying could see that Hilna was trying hard to muster her courage; her fists were clenched tightly, but the effect seemed minimal.

Then, she made her introduction in a trembling voice, simultaneously scanning the audience for the Captain's group. She quickly found them, but when she saw Yang Ying among the spectators, her eyes froze, and she stopped mid-sentence, catching her breath.

Seeing this, Feilin urgently communicated mentally, "Silly girl, calm down! Don't repeat past mistakes."

Hilna snapped back to reality, but she became even more flustered, unsure where to place her hands. Seeing her distress, Yang Ying communicated mentally as well, "Don't be afraid. We met on Planet Baante; you sang wonderfully then, better than the contestants before you. I am really looking forward to you performing even better here. You must try your best!"

Whether it was Yang Ying's comfort taking effect, or perhaps the tension surpassing its limit, causing a reversal, whatever the reason, after hearing Yang Ying's mental message, Hilna's eyes tightened, and her entire aura transformed. A sense of confidence spontaneously arose within her.

Then, beating time, the music began, and she opened her mouth to sing.

Only a few lines in, the audience in the hall felt their spirits lift. The beautiful notes washing over them were intoxicating, holding them captive. Several judges exchanged nods, clearly satisfied with Hilna's performance.

"Good, very good! Keep that up, remarkable, truly remarkable! Hilna is performing above her usual level!" Feilin seemed even more nervous than Hilna, watching the stage without blinking, murmuring to herself.

Yang Ying smiled, knowing that if the subsequent performers maintained a similar standard, Hilna had a great chance of winning the championship.

Just as Hilna was about to finish her song, Yang Ying suddenly sensed a colossal killing intent erupting, and a cold, obscure spiritual power enveloped the entire hall.

"This feeling... it's that fellow Tarlen!" The thought barely flashed through Yang Ying’s mind when the ceiling exploded with a deafening roar. Debris, accelerated by an immense psychic force, hurtled down toward them!

Yang Ying’s sharp eyes noted that interspersed among the ceiling fragments were numerous small bombs. Though small, they felt to him like high explosives. In an instant, he took in the entire environment of the hall and pondered: Most people in the hall lack spiritual power. They won't survive the ceiling collapse, let alone the falling bombs, which could wipe out the entire hall. Perhaps only the Captain’s group can escape. Tarlen's target is clearly me, but he's bringing so many innocents down with him. Is he trying to make them a burden for me?

He continued his calculation: He's a killer. It's in his nature to use any means necessary to kill. He knows that as a peak master, my sixth sense is incredibly acute, transcending time. It's impossible for him to assassinate me silently without triggering my alert. He must use external circumstances to tie my hands. By striking now, he gains the initiative. If I counterattack with full force, the audience here certainly cannot be spared. How could a small concert hall withstand a battle between peak masters? But he is unconcerned; he only needs to exert his full power to kill me, regardless of how many bystanders perish. What a calculated move.

Faster than words, in that split second, Yang Ying processed all these thoughts. He certainly couldn't just wait to die, nor could he let the entire audience perish because of him. Thus, he—

"I'll use this move!" Yang Ying brought his hands together, and a sphere of icy blue light scattered outward, instantly enveloping the entire hall!

When the light dissipated, everyone in the hall was frozen within thick spheres of ice, their expressions and movements completely locked in place. Some were even caught mid-gaze upward.

The ceiling fragments above slammed onto the ice shells, shattering like they had hit solid rock. Immediately following this, the high-explosive bombs mixed among the debris detonated violently. The entire hall was pulverized, and building fragments were flung hundreds of meters into the air!

Amidst the fierce explosion, Yang Ying flashed upward, drawing two golden light-swords as he shot towards the sky, meeting the other golden light-sword descending from above with a heavy slash!

Clang!

With a tremendous sound, a violent shockwave erupted, even more powerful than the simultaneous detonation of all the high explosives, ravaging the concert hall once more.

In that instant, Yang Ying and Tarlen exchanged more than several dozen blows. The clashing light-swords were continuous like a torrential downpour. Yang Ying held nothing back, aiming every strike at Tarlen's vital points. He had already deciphered Tarlen's swordsmanship; after dozens of exchanges, Yang Ying had seized the upper hand.

Soon, the dust shrouding the concert hall gradually settled. The building was reduced to ruins, yet hundreds of large ice spheres remained scattered among the rubble, completely undamaged. Even on the street outside the concert hall, many people were encased in ice. The figures within the spheres were lifelike; though struck and blasted, they remained unharmed. If you wish to know what happens next, please log in to Jizhou for more chapters, support the author, and support genuine reading!