While Ling Xiao chatted with Ling Yihang, the Tianfeng City Lord finished his speech.
The Tianfeng Gala officially kicked off.
The competition format was unique.
It followed an arena seizure style.
Ten arenas stood ready.
Anyone could claim one as the defender, picking a spot that suited them, then facing challengers.
Lose, and you’re out. Each person got three challenge attempts, but these only counted if you failed. Win every time, and they didn’t deplete.
The rules were simple and engaging.
“Take the arenas now,” the City Lord announced, his voice barely fading before dozens of figures darted out.
Some leaped from towers.
Others sprang from pavilions.
A few shot out from the woods.
Clearly, many aimed to claim a spot, but those with superior agility had the edge.
In a flash, all ten arenas were occupied.
Li Xinghui took the highest.
Ling Chen claimed the second.
Shi Feiyu the third.
Wang Zui the fourth.
Shi Yulian the fifth.
The remaining five were split: four went to the Li, Wang, and Shi clans, while a mid-tier family disciple nabbed the tenth.
To the Ling Clan’s embarrassment, aside from Ling Chen, Ling Xiao, Ling Yihang, and Ling Yixue hadn’t budged.
Not because they didn’t want to.
They simply hadn’t been told the rules, so they missed their chance.
“Hahaha! The Ling Clan dares call itself one of the four great families? Laughable, just Ling Chen grabbed an arena,” someone jeered.
“Yeah, are those three idiots?”
“Didn’t that Ling Xiao beat Ling Feifan? Probably some sneaky trick.”
The Li, Wang, and Shi clan disciples had no love for the Ling Clan and kicked them while they were down.
Truth be told, none of the four families liked each other. The Ling Clan just looked so pathetic that they became the target.
“I can’t sit still,” Ling Yihang stood.
“Then go have fun. Don’t lose, though, fourth or fifth is fine,” Ling Xiao said with a grin.
“Easy for you to say,” Ling Yihang replied with a wry smile. But he didn’t disappoint. Stepping up, he challenged Wang Zui, ranked fourth.
Normally, taking on Shi Yulian might’ve been an easier win, but he didn’t like fighting women.
That was Ling Yihang’s quirks.
“Wang Zui, dare to face me?” Ling Yihang called, hands behind his back, long blade at his waist, exuding a casual confidence.
“I’d rather not bother with you, but rules are rules. Let’s fight,” Wang Zui replied, lounging on the arena, not even bothering to stand.
Ling Yihang smirked inwardly but said nothing.
He wasn’t one for trash talk.
“Ling Yihang’s got guts, challenging one of the Four Young Masters right off the bat.”
“Three chances, right? Lose, and it’s just sparring. I wouldn’t be scared either.”
“But sparring with someone way stronger doesn’t help you grow.”
“He’s just posturing, heard us mocking them and wants to save face. Too bad he’s more likely to lose it.”
The crowd buzzed, skeptical of Ling Yihang. Wang Zui grew cockier, refusing to rise.
“I can beat you sitting down, so why stand?” he taunted.
“Ling Yihang challenges Wang Zui, begin,” the City Lord declared.
A dazzling blade flash struck almost instantly.
Wang Zui crumpled like a dead dog, bleeding from all seven orifices but alive.
“Idiot,” Ling Yihang spat, venting his pent-up frustration as Wang Zui was carried off. He felt refreshed.
“What Four Young Masters? Just ahead for now, yet so arrogant, pathetic!”
He slammed his blade into the arena floor and cheerfully watched the other challenges.
“We misjudged. The Ling Clan’s strongest isn’t Ling Chen or Ling Xiao, it’s Ling Yihang. That blade intent was chilling,” someone exclaimed.
“Agreed. One strike took down Wang Zui. Even Li Xinghui might not beat him.”
People flock to the impressive. Ling Yihang’s brutal win earned him respect.
The next challenges felt lackluster.
No one dared touch the top five arenas, sticking to six through ten.
But those defenders weren’t pushovers. Aside from Ling Yihang’s success, every other challenge failed.
“Junior Brother, I’ll give it a go too,” Ling Yixue said to Ling Xiao.
“Go for it. Avoid Shi Yulian, she’s stronger than she looks. Shi Feiyu’s a good pick,” Ling Xiao advised.
At some point, Ling Yixue had come to value Ling Xiao’s input over the clan elders’. She sought his advice over theirs.
“Got it, I’ll listen,” she said, stepping up and bowing to Shi Feiyu. “I’m Ling Yixue. Please enlighten me!”
“What’s with the Ling Clan? Always targeting the Four Young Masters?”
“Maybe they’ve got the chops.”
“Let’s not judge yet, watch first.”
“You cowards, I don’t believe after Ling Yihang, they’ve got someone even stronger!”
Ling Yixue’s challenge to Shi Feiyu spiked the gala’s tension again. Surprise and anticipation rippled through the crowd.
“Ling Chen, your clan’s pretty bold,” Li Xinghui remarked, glancing at him.
“Don’t lump me with that wretch, I don’t know her,” Ling Chen said coldly. “But she’s got no chance. Sixth in the clan competition, only here because others are in seclusion.”
“Is that so?” Li Xinghui frowned, saying no more.
Shi Feiyu took Ling Yixue seriously. After Wang Zui’s lesson, he wasn’t risking an upset. He opened with his signature move, the entry-level top-tier defensive art, Iron Cloth Divine Skill.
“That’s Iron Cloth Divine Skill, right?”
“Yeah, last gala, Shi Feiyu swept most foes with it, only lost to Li Xinghui and Wang Zui. Back then, it was just at minor mastery. Wonder how it is now.”
“Probably refined mastery by now.”
“That’s despairing. Top-tier defensive arts, even entry-level, are brutal to train.”
Amid the chatter, Shi Feiyu launched his attack.
With Iron Cloth Divine Skill active, his body seemed clad in iron, boosting both defense and offense.
