The elder's final announcent drifted across the Grand Competition Grounds like a cooling breeze after relentless heat.
"Two hours' rest. The Top Ten Competition will begin thereafter."
The roar of the crowd slowly unraveled into scattered murmurs as the tension over the arena eased. The sun, now leaning toward the horizon, cast long orange streaks across the shattered stone stages, softening the scars of battle beneath warm light.
But for the participants, rest did not equal peace.
On the northern side of the grounds, the Walker Clan sat gathered beneath their towering erald flag. There was no tension among them—only confidence so thick it almost felt arrogant.
Harvey Walker stretched his arms behind his head, grinning widely. "Two hours? Hah. We could start right now and still sweep the competition."
Aaden Walker smirked, polishing the edge of his gauntlet. "Top Ten or not, everyone knows the final winner will be one of us."
Drake Walker sat cross-legged, eyes half closed, golden qi circulating him like a slow-burning fla. "Relax. The others might as well be spectators. The Walker Clan's victory is already decided."
Their disciples laughed, shoulders loose, faces calm.
For them, the Top Ten Competition was not a threat.
It was simply the final act in a performance they believed was theirs by birthright.
Across the grounds, however, the mood was entirely different.
The Clark Clan, gathered beneath their gentle blue flag, wore strained expressions. Rachel Clark sat with her knees drawn close, breathing steadily, but the worry in her eyes softened none. Evan Clark tried to maintain composure, but his fingers tapped restlessly against the hilt of his sword.
"Walker Clan is too strong," one Clark disciple whispered.
"We can only hope not to et them early…"
Next to them, the Brown Clan fared no better. Their cultivators spoke in low tones, discussing match-ups, avoiding gazes that might betray their own fear. Conner Brown sat quietly but tight-jawed, fists clenched around his spirit staff.
The Brooks Clan kept their silence as well, but the tension hung heavier. Max Brooks had lost earlier. Even with Miller Brooks reaching the Top Ten, the earlier defeat echoed like a bruise across their pride.
"We cannot afford another loss," a Brooks elder muttered.
"We must show strength, or we will fall behind."
And yet…
At the very edge of the arena, almost ignored by many, stood the smallest group:
The Osborn Clan.
Only a handful of them.
Their flag was worn. Their robes are modest. Their lineage was looked down upon by nearly every major clan in Celestial Brook City.
But now… two Osborns had stepped into the Top Ten.
John Osborn, the clan head, stood before Robert and Essie. Although he had a composed expression, the tremor beneath his eyes revealed mixed feelings of pride, fear, and hope.
"We have co this far," John said quietly, voice low enough that only the two siblings could hear. "Listen well… From this point on, the real competition begins. The true elites will no longer hold back."
He looked first at Essie.
"Do not underestimate anyone."
Then at Robert.
"And do not reveal everything unless you must."
Robert bowed slightly. Essie mirrored him, her face filled with determination.
But John Osborn was not done. His voice deepened, thick with sincerity.
"Be careful. Your victories have already shaken the arena. The larger clans will no longer ignore you… Especially after today."
Both siblings nodded.
Essie placed a hand over her chest. "Father, we will not bring sha to the clan."
Robert remained silent… eyes steady, expression calm.
But inside him?
His thoughts twisted like a tightened rope.
I must win.
If I fail… I have to face system punishnt.
I cannot allow that to happen.
His fists curled slightly.
Victory is not an option. It is survival.
The Osborn group rested in the quiet shade of their pavilion. They ditated, regulated their breath, repaired damaged ridians with pills, and restored their drained qi. Though the break was brief, every minute mattered.
The arena slowly dimd as the sun died behind the mountains, painting the sky in streaks of violet and crimson.
Disciples murmured. Elders whispered. The crowd buzzed with speculation.
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye.
Then—
BOOM.
A deep drum resonated across the grounds.
The sound silenced everything.
The Grey Shadow Hall elder rose into the sky, floating above the arena. His presence washed over the crowd like an icy tide, forcing all conversation away.
"Ten participants," his voice echoed, "step forward."
A shimring barrier unfurled across the center of the grounds. The previous stages, which were broken, cracked, and damaged, vanished into thin dust.
In their place, five brand-new platforms rose slowly from the ground. Smooth. Perfect. Reinforced by the elder's qi to withstand the storms of combat yet to co.
Harvey Walker.
Aaden Walker.
Drake Walker.
Max Brooks.
Miller Brooks.
Rachel Clark.
Evan Clark.
Conner Brown.
Essie Osborn.
Robert Osborn.
The top ten gathered beneath the elder, their shapes forming a circle around him. The surrounding air shifted—ten distinct auras pressing against one another, creating ripples of invisible force.
The elder swept his gaze across each face.
"You stand here because you have earned your place with strength and spirit," he said. "But entry into the Top Ten does not guarantee advancent. Five of you will continue. Five will fall."
The air tightened.
Robert exhaled softly, calming the storm inside him.
Essie swallowed, her throat dry but her eyes fierce.
The Walker brothers smirked, relaxed as though already victorious.
Brooks, Clarks, and Brown stood stiffly, trying to steady their resolve.
The elder reached into a jade jar and lifted it before them, the surface swirling with faint white smoke.
"Just as before… You will draw a card."
"Your number will determine your match."
His voice deepened, crackling with a strange force.
"The five victors will advance."
The cards glowed inside the jar—five pairs, ten total.
One by one, the competitors stepped forward.
Harvey Walker pulled his card with a confident grin.
Harvey Walker pulled his card with a confident grin.
Aaden Walker laughed under his breath as he retrieved his.
Drake Walker stretched lazily before picking his.
Max Brooks looked tense, eyes sharp.
Miller Brooks's hand steadied only after a long exhale.
Rachel Clark whispered a small prayer before taking hers.
Evan Clark clenched his jaw before reaching in.
Conner Brown's hand trembled slightly.
Essie Osborn closed her eyes, steadied her breath, then drew her card.
Finally—
Robert Osborn stepped toward the jar.
He saw the faint white mist coil like a spirit snake inside. He reached in slowly, fingers brushing several cards before one tugged faintly—as if drawn to him.
He pulled it free.
The elder nodded once.
"Return to your clan stands," he commanded.
The competitors obeyed, going back to their clan sections.
The crowd buzzed, leaning forward.
Whispers like rising wind filled the massive arena.
Who will fight whom?
Who will survive?
Will the Osborns be able to stand against the four great clans again?
Or will their journey end here?
Robert stood with the Osborn clan, calm as stone, though his heart pounded like a war drum.
No matter the number drawn… I will win.
The stage was set.
The air quivered.
The flas of Celestial Brook City burnt brighter than ever.
The elder raised his hand—
Preparing to announce the first match.
And the arena held its breath.
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