In an elimination tournament with over ten thousand participants, the audience’s attention naturally gravitated toward the standout figures.
According to the rules, losing two matches in a row meant automatic elimination. Accumulating ten losses also led to elimination.
So losing once wasn’t a big deal—there was still a chance—but ten losses sealed your fate.
On the other hand, achieving a hundred consecutive wins guaranteed a spot in the top thousand.
This rule was an additional clause, designed to protect exceptional disciples who emerged unexpectedly.
A hundred straight victories was proof enough of their strength; forcing them to continue in such a grueling elimination would drain them unnecessarily.
Thus, the audience typically focused on those racking up win streaks.
The matches began with randomly drawn opponents, meaning no one knew who they’d face until the moment arrived.
Many secretly hoped to avoid the top two hundred on the stone wall rankings, as facing them increased the odds of defeat.
At the start, attention often centered on Elite Hall disciples ranked twentieth to thirtieth, since they were the most likely to rack up wins while the top ten sat out.
Yet after twenty matches, only two fighters remained undefeated.
One was Ling Ziran, ranked twentieth.
His fights were effortless—each opponent fell to a single move, powerless to resist.
The referees for this annual competition weren’t ordinary. They were Ling family experts, veterans who’d overseen many such events.
Their judgment was razor-sharp.
They could tell a winner from a loser in an instant.
So sometimes, fights didn’t drag on—when the outcome was clear, they’d call it.
“Ling Ziran’s too strong. Think he’s got a shot at the top ten this time?”
“Absolutely. You might not know, but he’s challenged top-ten fighters privately and won.”
“No wonder he’s so good! But who’s the other one with a streak? Never seen him before.”
“That guy? I’ve heard of him. Name’s Ling Xiao. He’s risen like a comet among the lower-tier disciples lately. Twenty wins in a row—that’s shocking.”
Indeed, the two with twenty consecutive victories were Ling Ziran, a crowd favorite with top-ten potential, and Ling Xiao, a bona fide dark horse!
“He’s up again. Let’s go watch the show—see what’s so special about this guy. Better to know how to guard against him if we face him later.”
“Let’s go!”
Though multiple matches ran simultaneously, the spotlight was firmly on Ling Ziran and Ling Xiao.
They were the only ones left with a shot at the hundred-win streak rule.
“Round twenty-one! Number 9588!”
With a flash, Ling Xiao appeared on the platform.
He didn’t bother hiding his movement technique.
Word had already spread—many knew his agility stood out, so there was no point in concealing it.
His opponent was a Martial Vein Second Layer Peak martial artist, already intimidated by Ling Xiao’s presence.
“Great Force Fist!”
The opponent roared, perhaps to bolster his own courage.
He used an intermediate fist technique with decent power, but against Ling Xiao, it was laughable.
“Get down!”
Ling Xiao took a casual step forward, charging like a wild bull, fists morphing into horns.
He sent his opponent flying off the platform.
“Hey, was that Barbaric Bull Force?”
“No doubt—it’s the basic technique Barbaric Bull Force! But how’s it so powerful?”
“Number 9588 wins! Twenty-one consecutive victories!”
The referees’ eyes betrayed their surprise—not just because of Ling Xiao’s twenty-one wins.
More astonishingly, he’d defeated every opponent in one move.
Even wilder—he was using the basic Barbaric Bull Force!
“He’s only bold enough to use Barbaric Bull Force against Martial Vein Second Layer foes.”
It wasn’t surprising people said this. Whether by coincidence or not, Ling Xiao’s luck had held—his strongest opponent so far was Martial Vein Second Layer.
Those who couldn’t stand his rise naturally found excuses to discredit him.
“Number 9588!”
After a short break, round twenty-two began.
This opponent was another Martial Vein Second Layer Peak fighter.
Ling Xiao didn’t hesitate.
Once the referee called start, he struck first.
Again, Barbaric Bull Force.
Again, one move.
Again, the opponent was blasted off the platform.
It wasn’t cruelty.
It was the rules.
A match only ended if the opponent was knocked off or surrendered.
Even a referee’s call was just a suggestion—if a fighter disagreed, the bout continued.
To avoid hassle, Ling Xiao simply sent them flying with one punch.
Still, those he knocked off weren’t badly hurt. His control over force was now masterful.
“Hmph, nothing special—just lucky. Another Martial Vein Second Layer opponent. Can’t he face a Third Layer already?”
Among the onlookers, some remained unimpressed.
“Number 9588 wins! Twenty-two consecutive victories!”
The referees seemed desensitized by now, announcing the result mechanically without earlier shock.
But to the chagrin of those waiting for Ling Xiao to falter, the next ten matches brought no Martial Vein Third Layer opponents.
With so many participants, most being Martial Vein Second Layer, it made sense.
“Number 9588 wins! Thirty-two consecutive victories!”
“Brother Ziran, Ling Xiao’s luck is unreal. You’ve faced two Martial Vein Third Layer fighters already, and he hasn’t met one!”
During a break, the crowd swelled with spectators.
Among them were Ling Ziran, also unbeaten, and Ling Yu, who’d already lost twice.
Ling Yu was the one speaking. She sure knew how to charm men—already cozying up to Ling Ziran.
“Don’t worry, Little Sister Yu. If I get the chance to face this Ling Xiao, I’ll teach him a lesson for you,” Ling Ziran said coldly. “But he’s got good luck. If he keeps running into Martial Vein Third Layer fighters next, he might crash out before I even get to him.”
Clearly, Ling Ziran looked down on Ling Xiao.
Though he knew Ling Xiao had outsmarted Ling Tieshou once, many chalked it up to a fluke.
Some even claimed Ling Tieshou had thrown the fight to play weak for the annual competition.
“Number 9588!”
“Huh? That’s Ling Hu! Elite Hall’s rank one-forty, Martial Vein Third Layer. Now we’ve got a show!”
Just as Ling Ziran grew bored and prepared to leave for his own match, the situation shifted.
“Ling Hu! Teach that poser a lesson!”
“Yeah, that kid’s too full of himself!”
Ling Xiao had used a basic technique to conserve true qi, but they mistook it for arrogance.
It was a bit unfair.
Clearly, plenty of people were already fed up with him.
A former beggar turning into a rising star didn’t sit well with everyone.
“Ling Xiao, I’ve had my eye on you for a while! Your streak ends with me!”
