*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Under Lin Yun’s control, the flying swords unleashed wave after wave of fierce strikes.
Of the hundred in this arena, eight out of ten were Void Spirit realm, the rest Mahayana realm—how could they hold up?
The swords formed arrays, sweeping the 93rd arena.
Each sweep sent twenty or thirty flying off the stage.
Moments later.
“Recall!”
Lin Yun waved, pulling back the 128 swords.
Against these foes, it was a breeze—no challenge at all.
Across the 93rd arena.
Lin Yun stood alone!
A breeze rustled his robes with a faint *swish*.
The crowd’s gaze on him now carried more wariness, more awe.
“Folks, thanks for yielding.”
Lin Yun clasped his fists, saluting the ousted contestants.
This kind of contest was brutal—only one stayed standing, pity them and he’d be the one out.
Cultivation was like that—seizing fate, grabbing chances.
Fate and chances were finite—don’t fight, don’t grab, you’re doomed to mediocrity.
Lin Yun’s win locked him into the top hundred via the survival round.
“This guy’s proper fierce!”
Gasps and cheers rippled through.
Sure, Lin Yun’s name was out there—beating Wei Qi was big news.
But this was the first time most saw him in action—rumors versus eyewitness hit different.
At the Mo Clan’s spot.
“Father, he just swept 99 people, stealing the show!” Mo Yangrong’s face darkened.
“This survival round splits the high ranks across groups, so he won easy, don’t sweat it—when he meets Cao Zheng, that’s his end!” Clan Leader Mo squinted.
“Father, look, Cao Zheng’s smashing his group too!” Mo Yangrong pointed to the 31st arena.
As Lin Yun stepped off after his win, his eyes flicked to the 31st.
“Hm? First-turn Tribulation realm? A Tribulation realm contestant?” A ripple of intrigue flashed in his gaze.
He’d asked Zhu Xu before—Tribulation realm folks rarely joined the prefecture exam.
Last time Dongyuan had one was over forty years ago.
Watching the 31st, this first-turn Tribulation realm cultivator was brutal—several dead already, more gravely hurt, the rest leaping off in terror, soon just him left.
“31st arena, Cao Zheng survives!” the referee boomed.
“Cao Zheng?” Lin Yun muttered.
“No surprise it’s Cao Zheng, didn’t think he’d join this year’s exam!”
“Then this prefecture round’s a lock—Cao Zheng’s got the crown!”
The name ‘Cao Zheng’ sparked louder buzz and uproar.
Cao Zheng’s sweep wasn’t like Lin Yun’s.
Lin Yun’s 99 ganged up on him.
Cao Zheng? His foes didn’t dare touch him—he took the fight to them, crushing them solo, no mercy.
Lin Yun rejoined the Zhu father and son.
“Hero Lin Yun, bad news!”
Their faces were grim.
“What’s up?” Lin Yun asked.
“This Cao Zheng’s a legit first-turn Tribulation realm, no slouch, he’s got a rep in Dongyuan too, I heard he’d wait a few years to join, didn’t expect him this round,” Clan Leader Zhu shook his head.
“Oh? So what?” Lin Yun puzzled.
“Hero Lin Yun, with him in, he’s your roadblock to the crown! Winning the prefecture round just got way harder,” Clan Leader Zhu fretted.
Zhu Xu chimed in, “Brother Lin Yun, you’ll face him if you want the top spot.”
Then, Clan Leader Mo and Mo Yangrong strolled over.
“Clan Leader Mo, what’re you doing here?” Clan Leader Zhu glared coldly.
“Want to know why Cao Zheng’s here? Truth is, we made it happen,” Clan Leader Mo stroked his beard, smug.
The Zhu duo’s faces shifted, “You lot!”
Even Lin Yun flashed surprise.
Clan Leader Mo eyed Lin Yun, venom dripping, “Kid, Mo’s got clout in Dongyuan, blocking your crown’s no sweat—this is what you get for crossing us!”
Lin Yun laughed instead, “Clan Leader Mo, if you brought Cao Zheng, I ought to thank you.”
The Mo pair blinked, thrown.
They’d figured he’d flip out—thwarting his shot at the crown, at the national round!
Why was he grinning?
“Kid, you gone daft? Thank us for what?” Clan Leader Mo scoffed.
“For spicing up the game a bit, without Cao Zheng, this prefecture round’d be dull as dishwater, no challenge—now it’s got a smidge of fun, but the ending’s still the same!”
The Mo duo burst out laughing.
“Ha, you’re off your rocker—think you’ll beat Cao Zheng for the crown? Face it, you’re done!!!” Clan Leader Mo’s laugh grated.
“Since you’re so sure of Cao Zheng, dare to bet on it?” Lin Yun smiled.
“A bet? How?” Clan Leader Mo crossed his arms, smug.
“If Cao Zheng wins, I’ll return your 5,000 Tribulation Pills, if I take the prefecture crown, you give me 5,000 more,” Lin Yun’s grin widened.
“Kid, you’ve got some appetite!”
The Mo pair’s eyes twitched at ‘Tribulation Pills’.
5,000 wasn’t chump change—last time bled them dry, still stings.
Mo craved Tribulation Pills too—Clan Leader Mo’s stuck below ninth-rank Tribulation realm for lack of them.
Spirit crystals? Easy, Tribulation Pills? A nightmare to snag!
“Fine, I’ll take that bet!” Clan Leader Mo snapped.
They were dead sure Cao Zheng would win—thanks to a secret they held!
A sure thing—why not bet? Win back the pills, and their pride!
“Words won’t cut it, I don’t trust Mo’s honor, we need it in writing, signed and sealed.”
Lin Yun whipped out paper and pen, drafting fast.
The Mo duo didn’t balk—both signed, one copy each!
Grabbing theirs, they strutted off, laughing skyward, brimming with certainty.
Lin Yun eyed his copy, smiling too.
