The extraction point was marked by a solitary gray stone, with the words "gray Shadow Hall" etched into its surface. A senior official stood next to it, while two junior observers lingered behind him. The three pairs had already gathered there.
The Brown Clan to the left—Conner Brown standing with his staff across his back, his broad face carrying the patient expression it always carried. Dustin was beside him, quiet.
The Clark Clan is at the center—Rachel Clark standing straight, her expression organized and still. Evan Clark to her right.
Brooks Clan to the right—Max Brooks with his arms crossed. Miller is beside him. Zara was standing slightly apart, her attention moving through the space the way it always did.
All of them looked at Robert and Sai when they arrived.
Not looking at their faces, but rather at their condition. Robert's chest was constricted, and his right shoulder appeared to be in bad shape. His left arm was positioned a bit differently than the right, with the numb forearm not quite responding to simple movents.
You could see Sai's weight leaning to his left. Both were on the move, both working just fine. In Sai's grip were two storage rings—one was Robert's, and the other was not. The official took a look at the rings.
Sothing moved across his expression. He said nothing yet. Max Brooks looked at the second storage ring. His jaw tightened once. Then he looked at the forest entry path.
Looking for the Walker pair. They were not coming. The official began the submission process.
There was no ceremony, just the count. The Brown Clan was up first. Conner Brown stepped forward and passed the storage ring. The official began to extract the cores, taking them out one at a ti.
He counted them quietly. Twelve Rank Two cores and one Rank Three core. Looking up, he announced, "Brown Clan — one hundred fifteen points." Conner Brown gave a single nod and stepped back. Then it was the Clark Clan's turn. Rachel Clark moved forward, ready to take her place. The official began the count.
Fourteen Rank Two cores. Three Rank Three cores. He glanced up. "Clark Clan — one hundred thirty-five points." Rachel Clark listens to the score without showing any emotion. She stepped back. Brooks Clan.
Max Brooks stepped forward. The official counted. Eight Rank Two cores. Two Rank Three cores. One ranks four. He looked up. "Brooks Clan — one hundred ten points."
Max Brooks looked at the official for a mont longer than necessary. Then stepped back.
His gaze shifted to Robert and lingered there. Robert took a step forward. Sai carefully placed both storage rings on the submission surface. The official glanced at them.
Both. He glanced at SAI, then shifted his gaze to the forest path, and finally back to the rings. He started counting. The other three pairs watched intently. This count took longer than any previous one.
Significantly longer.
The official moved through the first ring—Robert's cores—twelve Rank Three cores across two days, along with one Rank Two core. Then he opened the second ring. The forest went very quiet.
He counted the Walker pair's collection—two Rank Four cores and six Rank Three cores across three days of deep zone hunting under Milton Walker's personally trained pair.
He counted it twice.
Carefully, he set the cores down. He took a look at his docunt, wrote down the number, and then lifted his gaze. First, he looked at Robert, then at the assembled pairs. "Osborn Clan," he said, pausing for a mont. "Four hundred and forty points."
Nobody moved.
The forest held its silence. The Brown pair. The Clark pair. The Brooks pair. All of them were standing completely still, with the number sitting in the air between them and the stone marker.
Max Brooks looked at the second storage ring on the submission surface.
He understood where it had co from.
He looked at Robert.
Robert looked back. Max Brooks uncrossed his arms. Said nothing. Looked at the forest path one more ti.
Then he looked away.
The gray Shadow Hall ssenger moved out of the forest at a pace that was controlled but not slow.
He reached the competition ground's entry boundary and kept moving. The crowd saw him coming.
The crowd fell silent in that familiar way crowds do when they are on the edge of their seats, eagerly anticipating a result they have been waiting for over three long days. He stepped up to Elder Value Lie's platform.
He handed over the docunt, and Elder Veylan Lie took a mont to read it. His face remained mostly unchanged as he glanced at the paper again. After a brief pause, he began to speak into the open space around him.
"Forest Hunt Competition — final result."
The crowd was completely still.
"First place," He paused.
"Osborn Clan. Four hundred and forty points."
The silence lasted two full seconds.
The observer platforms created a unique sound that resembled the chatter of hundreds of people all trying to process the sa information at once, yet struggling to make sense of it.
Osborn Clan.
Voices started. Low at first. Who is the Osborn Clan? The unknown pair. The ones nobody recognized. Level 6 Mid-Stage. Both. That was what the registration said.
Four hundred and forty points. The arithtic moved through the crowd faster than the official announcent had. The Osborn pair submitted with two Rank Four cores.
The crowd understood what that ant. The voices rose. It started at the back of the eastern platform.
Just a quick, genuine sound. It is not harsh. It is that special laugh that cos out when sothing so totally unexpected happens that you are left with no other way to respond.
Soone besides that person heard it and produced the sa sound.
Then the person beside them.
It moved forward through the observer platforms the way a wave moves—not because anyone decided to laugh, but because the situation itself had a quality that made laughter the only honest response.
Four top clans from Celestial Brook City.
Resources. Infrastructure. Knowledgeable elders. A full month of one-on-one guidance from one of the strongest cultivators in the area. All of it. Bested by a clan that nobody had even acknowledged when their na was called just three days ago. A clan from Magical City. An unknown na on a registration docunt that had the crowd exchanging puzzled looks, since no one there had ever heard it before.
The laughter built. Not mockery. Disbelief expressed as sound. The genuine laughter of several hundred people who had co to watch a competition and had received sothing entirely different from what they expected.
In the Walker Clan's designated area, Drake Walker received the result from the junior mber who brought it from Elder Veylan Lie's platform.
He read it.
His expression did not change imdiately.
Then it did.
Sothing flickered behind his eyes—a fleeting mont that was neither disbelief nor full understanding, hovering in that grey area before finally finding its place.
He looked at the forest entry path. Harvey and Aaden had not co out yet. He re-examined the result docunt. Four hundred and forty points. The Walker pair's two Rank Four cores are accounted for in an opposing submission.
He understood exactly what that ant. He folded the docunt. Elder Garan received it next.
His fingers brushed lightly against his leg, a tiny gesture, almost unnoticeable. He gazed down the forest path, saying nothing. Elder Tom observed him with the sa bland expression he wore for everything.
He looked at the docunt for three seconds. Set it down. Looked at the competition ground.
Elder Mary, Harvey's mother, stood tall and silent as she received the docunt, the last among the elders.
Her hand holding the docunt tightened once.
Then she released her breath. Her gaze fell on the forest path—the very spot where her son had ventured three days ago. The sa spot he had not returned from yet. She remained silent.
The Walker Clan group produced a silence that was different from every other group's silence in the competition ground.
It was a quiet mont, not loud or dramatic. Just the stillness of people who hadn't quite processed what they had just heard. anwhile, the laughter from the observer platforms echoed clearly across the competition ground.
It was not about the Walker Clan or any particular clan, for that matter. It was all about the situation at hand. The sheer unlikelihood of what had just been revealed. So folks on the platforms were not laughing; instead, they were huddled together, asking questions, trying to find soone who could shed light on the Osborn Clan—where they ca from and what they were all about.
Most people were starting from scratch. Just a na that nobody recognized. A city that was sowhere in the middle. And a registration docunt filled with numbers that had left everyone scratching their heads just three days earlier.
And now first place. John Osborn stood in the clan mber area behind the designated positions. He heard Elder Veylan Lie announce the result. He heard the crowd's silence. He heard the laughter begin. His expression did not change visibly. He looked at the forest entry path. He straightened slightly.
Then he waited. On her platform, Aria Valen listened as the result was announced. She did not react right away. Instead, her gaze drifted to the forest entry path—the sa direction the crowd had turned their attention to and the spot where the Osborn pair had entered last and would be the first to leave.
A faint line appeared between her brows and then vanished. Varis, who was beside her, didn't utter a word. She kept quiet as well, her eyes fixed on the entry path for just a mont longer than the situation called for.
Then she filed it. The corner of her thinking that had been accumulating Osborn Clan information since the gray Shadow Hall eting received the result, and the corner beca noticeably fuller.
Four hundred and forty points. Two Rank Four cores submitted. A hidden cultivation level. A month of preparation that led to results that did not quite match the reported resources. And now this. He is not who the reports claim he is. Actually, he has not been that person for quite so ti.
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