The previous standing record was three thousand two hundred and fifteen consecutive victories, set by an ancient patriarch of the Martial Fist King Sect nearly eighty thousand years ago.
That record had stood unchallenged all that ti. It was regarded as unbreakable, a legendary feat passed down as a story to inspire disciples. Cattaleya had not simply broken it.
She had pulverized it into dust and then stomped the dust into the ground.
Ten thousand sixty seven victories in one day.
The elders of the Martial Fist King Sect watched from the upper pavilion, slack jawed and speechless. So rubbed their eyes, convinced they were hallucinating. One elder muttered that the world had gone mad. Another whispered that if this continued, they might need to rewrite the tournant rules entirely.
Even the sect disciples recognized the severity of the situation.
Those who were previously confident in reaching the top ten felt a cold dread creeping into their bones. The strongest of them, individuals praised as future top ranked immortals, suddenly doubted themselves.
A sixth tribulation stage disciple quietly whispered, "She flicked three sixth tribulation cultivators today like they were children. That was not even a technique. That was her finger."
Another responded, "Do we have a chance at all?"
The general conclusion was simple.
Cattaleya Duskthorn would be one of the strongest opponents they would ever
face.
Betting halls went wild as soon as her streak passed one hundred. Payouts dropped to almost nothing, yet thousands still placed bets on her. It was practically guaranteed profit.
At one point, even the bookkeepers stopped taking wagers. They feared losing too much money.
Lin Mu found Cattaleya in the rest area devouring a plate of roasted beast ribs like a starving dragon. ng Bai and Dongxu Ning stood nearby trying not to laugh. Daoist Chu was already calculating how much he would win from his earlier bets.
Cattaleya waved a bone in Lin Mu's direction as she chewed. "Lin Mu, I helped speed your turn. I cleared a lot of trash for you."
ng Bai snorted. "If she keeps going at this pace, you two might end up fighting each other before the finals."
Cattaleya shook her head. "No. I would stop before that. Fighting Lin Mu in the finals is more fun."
Lin Mu smiled. "We will see."
The tournant groundcrew worked tirelessly through the night.
Normally they repaired the ring only once every few days. Today, they needed ergency repairs. The arena floor was cratered, cracked, and soaked with a mix spiritual residue and blood. The barrier formations were trembling from exhaustion. One array master swore he saw a flick shaped dent in one wall. Finally, just before dawn, the modified array systems were restored and the fighting resud.
The break was short, barely four hours. By six in the morning, the announcer began shouting again.
And then, much sooner than expected, the na appeared.
"Contestant Number Ten Thousand Ninety Two. Lin Mu
The crowd stirred.
Many recognized the na.
He had no flashy reputation like Cattaleya, but he had a quiet notoriety. Rumors said he was monstrously strong. Rumors said he was the master of the young prodigy ng Bai. Rumors said Cattaleya herself admitted he was stronger than her.
Rumors said he would only use body cultivation for this tournant.
The audience leaned forward in anticipation.
ng Bai sat up straight, gripping Dongxu Ning's hand without realizing he had done so. She did not pull away, only smiled quietly.
Daoist Chu smirked. "Finally. The main event begins."
Cattaleya swallowed her last rib and wiped her mouth. "Now we will see who else dares step into the ring"
Lin Mu rose calmly from his seat. His steps were quiet, yet each carried imnse weight. Even in a crowd of millions, his presence drew eyes like
gravity itself.
The Middle Knuckle Stadium fell silent for a mont.
Because now, at last, Lin Mu's turn had begun.
Lin Mu stepped onto the ring with the sa calmness he used when stepping into an inn or strolling through a market street. His breathing was steady. His face unreadable. His posture relaxed.
To most spectators, he seed like a man entirely unfazed by the idea of fighting in front of millions.
But the truth was even more extre. Lin Mu was not unfazed.
He was bored.
Compared to the hellish trials he had taken, compared to battles against Transcendents and Immortals, compared to the Ephera tree monster or even the grinding pressure of his own cultivation path, standing in this ring felt like a morning stretch.
Still, he would indulge the crowd. It was why he decided to rely solely on body cultivation. He wanted to test himself. He wanted to feel how far he had co.
And perhaps, in so tiny corner of his mind, he wanted to enjoy himself.
The audience hushed as his foot touched the ring. It was not silence out of reverence, but out of curiosity. For the first ti today, they were unsure what
to expect.
Cattaleya's entrance caused cheers and screams.
Lin Mu's entrance caused murmurs and whispers.
Most people had no idea who Lin Mu truly was. He had not fought in the smaller tournants. He had not shown off his strength in public. His only claim to fa was standing next to two well known individuals.
"He is the One Flick Woman's companion."
"He is the master of that talented ng Bai."
"He is supposed to be strong, but we have never actually seen him do anything"
"I heard people tried to sense his realm, but they could not sense a thing"
"His registration says Fifth Tribulation Stage though."
"It might be a trick."
"It might be real."
No one could say with certainty.
Yet their curiosity was rewarded the mont the announcer called the
opposing na.
"Opponent: Core Disciple Huang Moon!"
The stadium erupted.
Huang Moon was a known fighter. He was respected. He was experienced. He
had reached the top hundred in the previous tournant and was considered a rising star of the Martial Fist King Sect.
He walked into the arena in perfect contrast to Lin Mu. Where Lin Mu seed entirely plain, Huang Moon radiated power and confidence.
He was tall, nearly two ters in height.
His hair was bound at the back of his head in the Martial Fist King Sect's formal
warrior knot. His body was athletic, lean yet sculpted. He did not possess the hyper exaggerated bulk of so body cultivators, but instead the chiselled and refined form of a man who had perfected control over every muscle.
His robes were brown and red, colors of the sect. On his back was the giant crest of a clenched fist wrapped in patterns of flowing battle essence.
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