Before the dostic banter could escalate further, a sound like a thunderclap split the heavens.
GONG.
The Head Elder of the Discipline Hall struck the massive, ancient bronze gong suspended above the main hall.
The sonic wave washed over the plaza, instantly silencing the screaming crowd and forcing the unruly atmosphere back into rigid, martial discipline.
The Head Elder stood at the edge of the high jade terrace, his expression dark and utterly exasperated.
He looked down at the four Inner Sect elites who had abandoned their posts to swarm an Outer Sect cook, shaking his head in profound disappointnt at the youth of today.
"Disciples!" The Elder’s Qi-amplified voice bood across the mountains. "Order! Restore order imdiately!"
The crowd shuffled nervously, straightening their robes. Gu Zhiwei, Wen Shiru, and Lu Jianheng visibly stiffened, rembering their status and the thousands of eyes upon them.
"The Phase One survival trial of the Myriad Illusions Lower Realm has officially concluded!" the Elder announced, his voice carrying absolute authority. "Out of the thousands who entered, only ten have returned victorious. They have proven their tenacity, their survival instincts, and their unbroken will."
The Elder swept his hand toward the center of the plaza, where Ji’an and the other nine survivors stood.
"Let the ten survivors step forward! You are hereby granted the right to ascend the stairs! You shall join the Inner Sect elites upon the Jade Terrace!"
A roar of applause finally broke out, this ti, formal and respectful.
To ascend the stairs from the lower plaza to the Jade Terrace was the ultimate symbol of rising from the mud to the clouds.
Zhang Min and the battered Class 7 disciples wept openly, hugging each other as they began the long walk up the massive, white marble staircase.
Su Wan, maintaining her flawless poise despite her dirty robes, followed gracefully, her eyes darting back toward Ji’an.
Mo Wuchen coughed delicately into his sleeve, allowing two eager Outer Disciples to help him walk toward the stairs, though he shot a dark, calculating look at the tight cluster of elites surrounding Ji’an.
And sowhere in the crowd, Yan Lie and Chi Yun began their ascent, the Demon Lord’s red eyes fixed squarely on Ji’an’s back with terrifying anticipation.
"Co, Brother Lin!" Gu Zhiwei bead, gesturing toward the stairs. "Let us go up together! The view from the terrace is wonderful!"
"I don’t need an escort, Zhiwei, I know how stairs work," Ji’an sighed, though she fell into step beside the golden retriever.
Wangchen imdiately flanked her right side, moving in perfect, silent synchronization with her, while Lu Jianheng and Wen Shiru flanked the left.
As Ji’an walked up the grand staircase, surrounded by the top four prodigies of the sect, she looked less like a victorious survivalist and more like a mob boss arriving with her elite enforcers.
The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea.
When they finally reached the Jade Terrace, the true scale of the next phase was revealed.
The massive, flat expanse of the terrace had been magically reconfigured.
Four massive, square sparring rings, paved with indestructible black spirit-stone and surrounded by shimring, translucent energy barriers, had risen from the floor.
The air up here was electric. The casual, survival-focused atmosphere of the Lower Realm was gone.
This was the Dao of Combat. This was where grudges were settled, ranks were established, and geniuses were broken.
The Head Elder floated down to the center of the four rings, a glowing, golden scroll hovering in front of him.
"Phase Two shall now comnce!" the Elder bellowed. "This is a one-on-one, sudden-death sparring tournant to evaluate your true ranking. The elites of Classes 1 through 5 shall be seeded against the ten victorious survivors of the Outer Sect."
A murmur of anxiety rippled through the Class 7 survivors.
Fighting a peer was one thing; fighting an Inner Sect elite who had been ditating comfortably on the terrace for three days while they fought ghosts in the mud was practically a death sentence.
"The rules are simple," the Elder continued, his eyes sweeping the assembled fighters. "Victory is achieved by knocking your opponent out of the ring, forcing a submission, or rendering them unable to combat. Killing is strictly prohibited, but severe injuries are the nature of the Dao. The healers are on standby."
He raised his hand. The golden scroll unrolled, expanding until it was a massive, glowing holographic bracket floating in the sky for everyone to see.
"The matchups have been randomly generated by the Sect’s celestial array based on your spiritual signatures," the Elder announced. "Review the bracket. The first four matches will begin in ten minutes. Prepare yourselves!"
Ji’an crossed her arms, leaning casually against her spatula as she squinted up at the glowing bracket.
She just wanted to survive. She wanted to secure her spot in the Inner Sect, get access to the high-grade ingredient pantry, and retire to a quiet peak to perfect her pastry skills.
But as her eyes scanned the glowing nas, her heart sank into her boots.
’The celestial array is a rigged, dramatic piece of garbage,’ Ji’an groaned internally, rubbing her temples as a migraine instantly blood behind her eyes.
Because right there, in the very first bracket of Ring 1, glowing in bright, unmissable golden letters, was her matchup.
[Candidate #459: Lin Ji’an (Class 9)]
VS.
[Candidate #88: Yan Lie (Class 8 Rogue)]
Ji’an stared at the na. The Blood Sovereign. The Mini Demon Lord. The psychotic tyrant she had literally beaten over the head with a kitchen utensil just a few hours prior.
"Well," Ji’an muttered to herself, letting out a long, hollow sigh. "It was a good life. I wonder if the afterlife has a decent spice rack."
Beside her, Xie Wangchen’s eyes were locked onto a completely different section of the bracket.
[Candidate #1: Xie Wangchen (Class 1)]
VS.
[Candidate #312: Mo Wuchen (Class 6)]
The Ice Genius did not sigh or groan. Instead, a slow, terrifying, and utterly rciless smile crept onto Xie Wangchen’s face.
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