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“This Gathering will feature sixty disciples from various sects,” the Third Grand Elder began, his voice calm and authoritative. “Opponents will be chosen by drawing lots.”

“Each battle is one round, one winner. The format is: sixty down to thirty, then thirty down to fifteen.

“Once fifteen remain, one contestant will get a bye through a random draw, while the remaining fourteen fight.

“Who gets the bye? That’s up to luck.

“From fifteen to eight, the battles continue. Among the final eight, we’ll use a time-based advantage: the disciple who finishes their match the quickest will get to choose their next opponent.

“Understood?”

“Understood!” shouted the disciples from the various sects, lined up in six teams, their voices loud and full of energy.

“Today, you stand before most of the major powers of the entire Western Region. If you make a name for yourself here, you’ll make a name for yourself throughout the region,” the Third Grand Elder declared, his gaze sweeping across the crowd of young warriors. His voice, laced with spiritual energy, thundered in their ears. “Show everything you’ve got, what you’ve trained for over the past ten or more years. Today, before your sect masters, under the eyes of thousands, make them all remember your name.”

His rousing speech left the disciples flushed with excitement. Their blood surged, their chests puffed up with confidence.

Each had only one thought in their mind:

“Become famous.”

“Youth sure is something,” Xu Zimo said, glancing at the fired-up disciples nearby. “Just a couple of words and they’re already ready to die on stage.”

“The arena’s set. Now it’s time for the actors to take the stage, heroes, villains, and clowns alike.”

Next to him, Baili Xiao, dressed in white, stood at the front of the True Martial Sacred Ground’s team. Her gaze never left the young man standing directly across from them, Chu Yang, of the Yin-Yang Sect.

Chu Yang wore the signature black-and-white robe of his sect. His eyes met Baili Xiao’s with equal intensity.

Across the distance, their eyes locked. Tears shimmered in Baili Xiao’s eyes as she murmured, “Chu Yang…”

She hadn’t expected that the ordinary boy from that tiny mountain village could go through so much suffering, rise without resources or connections, and become the Holy Son of the Yin-Yang Sect.

Baili Xiao was proud, proud of Chu Yang and proud of herself for believing in him.

“How touching,” Xu Zimo said with a smirk as he observed her. “Tell me, if I crushed his head like a watermelon, would you be heartbroken?”

“You dare kill someone in the Seven Holy Lands Gathering?” Baili Xiao turned to him, expression cold.

“Accidents happen all the time,” Xu Zimo replied with a grin. “Of course, if you cry and beg me now, I’ll make sure his death is at least a little prettier.”

“You should worry about yourself,” she said with a sneer. “Let’s see if you can even make it past the first round.”

“No need to worry about me,” Xu Zimo grinned wickedly. “I’ll make sure you get a front-row seat while I slice him into a thousand pieces.”

Baili Xiao frowned and snorted coldly, refusing to engage further.

When the tournament officially began, a thunderous roar erupted from the audience.

Since it was True Martial Sacred Ground’s home turf, their cheers easily drowned out those of the other sects.

The crowd's shouts rolled like waves, vibrating through the very air.

Among the cheers, Baili Xiao’s name came up the most.

She was beautiful, immensely talented, and heir to the legacy of the Grand Empress. To many disciples, she was a dream made real.

Amid the noise, Xu Zimo also faintly heard some cheering for himself.

“Xu Zimo! I want to bear your children!”

His expression darkened.

If it had been a girl, maybe he’d let it slide, but the voice was deep and gruff. Some guy had yelled that out.

The lot-drawing began. There were thirty numbers, divided into pairs. Disciples who drew matching numbers would face each other.

Xu Zimo looked at his draw: Number 7.

Once the groups were set, he stepped onto Arena Seven.

His opponent wore a black robe, clearly a disciple from the Purgatory Sacred Ground.

The disciple looked at Xu Zimo and chuckled. “The son of True Martial Sacred Ground’s Vice-Lord. If I eliminate you in the first round, I’ll be famous overnight.”

The moment he finished speaking, clang!

The sound of a blade being drawn echoed through the arena. He didn’t even see the blade move, but suddenly felt a sharp sting at his neck.

His eyes widened. He touched his neck and saw a thin cut, the skin lightly sliced.

“You’re lucky,” Xu Zimo said with a smile. “I didn’t miss.”

“What were you saying just now? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Haha… ha…” The disciple gave a nervous laugh. “The wind sure is loud today.”

Shaken to the core, he quickly stepped down from the arena, heart pounding, he’d just had a brush with death.

Up in the VIP seats, Yan Hong, Sacred Lord of the Purgatory Sacred Ground, smiled and said, “Vice-Lord Xu, your son is impressive. One slash was all it took to settle the match.”

“It’s just one fight, it doesn’t mean much,” Xu Qingshan replied with a calm smile.

After stepping off the arena, Xu Zimo watched the other matches.

Since the winner with the shortest match time would get to choose their next opponent in the top 8, many disciples were trying to end their fights as fast as possible.

Chu Yang, wielding the Wandering Dragon Sword, made his move.

With a single slash, primordial yin-yang energy surged.

These weren’t just opposites, they were primal, ever-shifting forces.

As they exploded in front of his opponent, the poor disciple was blown off the stage instantly.

Xu Zimo’s eyes lit up. “Yin-Yang Energy, not acquired, but innate. True innate yin and yang.”

This was one of the core materials required to build a personal world. Xu Zimo now felt that he and Chu Yang were truly destined rivals, love and hate intertwined.

“I was going to kill him anyway, but now he’s bringing me such a big surprise right before death.”

Originally, Xu Zimo had been looking for the legendary Oblivion Bead, hoping to extract its innate Yin-Yang Energy to construct his own world.

But now, it seemed even though he’d taken Chu Yang’s World Pearl in a previous life, Chu Yang’s luck had led him to the Oblivion Bead regardless.

“Such a treasure trove,” Xu Zimo muttered. “Makes me almost want to raise him in a cage instead of kill him…”

Still, the longer you wait, the greater the risk.

He didn’t want the prey to become the hunter.

…

With the end of the first round, thirty disciples were eliminated.

The remaining thirty drew lots again.

Xu Zimo drew Number 12.

He stepped onto the arena to see a young man in golden robes, holding a sword at his waist, already waiting for him.

“Isn’t that Lin Yifei of Cloudsky Sword Sect?” a disciple exclaimed from the stands in surprise.