The announcent of Lin Mu's victory did not rely echo through the Great Fist City.
It exploded.
Within hours, ssengers mounted on Immortal beasts rushed out in every direction. Transmission arrays flared to life across cities and sects. Jade slips carrying the results were duplicated endlessly and sent through trade routes, sect channels, and private networks.
Even wandering cultivators in remote valleys began hearing the sa words whispered with awe.
Daoist Lin Mu.
Winner of the Great Martial Fist King Tournant.
And it was not just his na that spread.
The recordings did.
Thousands of people had used Recording Jade Slips during the final battle. So were crude, shaky, half blinded by light and shattered space. Others were made by professionals, with layered formations that captured every movent, every collision, every terrifying shockwave.
Soon, in taverns, sect halls, market plazas, and mountain pavilions, people gathered around glowing jade panels.
They watched Cattaleya charge like a war goddess.
They watched Lin Mu stand like a mountain that refused to fall.
They watched space crack.
They watched barriers shatter.
They watched two beings who were not yet Transcendent fight like legends of old.
And they were stunned into silence.
In one small city of the Eastern Immortal Court, an old elder dropped his tea cup when he saw Lin Mu stop the Siege Ending Ram with his fist.
In a distant world, a sect master slamd his hand on a table and shouted, "Find out everything about this Lin Mu!"
In another, a young body cultivator watched with shaking hands and whispered, "That is what I want to beco."
So were inspired.
So were frightened.
So were greedy.
So were already planning.
For the first ti, Lin Mu's na was no longer confined to secret circles, hidden courts, or elite powers. It had entered the mouths of common cultivators. It had entered songs, gossip, wagers, and dreams.
And Lin Mu himself knew none of it.
At that mont, he was standing in the middle of what used to be the fighting ring.
Or rather, what remained of it.
The once majestic arena was now a vast crater, its stone floor shattered into uneven layers, its edges fractured and warped. Cracks spread like spiderwebs through the reinforced platform. The great palm shaped foundation beneath it still glowed faintly, held together by the lingering power of Patriarch Xiong Tian.
Lin Mu stood at its center, breathing slowly.
His body still ached.
Cracks still lingered on his skin, though they were slowly knitting together.
Blood had dried along his arms and shoulders.
He looked up as the stadium slowly quieted.
SHUA
The Martial Fist King Sect Patriarch descended from the sky, his presence alone enough to silence even the most excited crowd.
Patriarch Xiong Tian stood tall, his body radiating restrained might. His eyes swept across the stadium once, then rested on Lin Mu.
"By the rules of the Great Martial Fist King Tournant," his voice bood, "the victor of this generation's tournant is Daoist Lin Mu."
The crowd erupted.
Cheers, roars, shouts, and even sobs filled the air.
Lin Mu cupped his fists respectfully.
Patriarch Xiong Tian continued, "This tournant has exceeded all expectations. Records have been shattered. History has been rewritten. And you, Daoist Lin Mu, have proven yourself worthy of this title."
An Elder stepped forward carrying a long box made of pale golden wood.
Even from a distance, Lin Mu could sll the rich fragrance of Immortal Sandalwood.
Patriarch Xiong Tian opened the box himself.
Inside lay a single pill, glowing with soft crimson light, faint golden veins pulsing within it like a living heart.
"Martial King Ascension Pill," the patriarch said. "The supre reward of our sect. A pill that can raise a body cultivator by an entire stage, or more,
depending on their foundation."
The crowd gasped again.
Many immortals in the stands felt their hearts tighten. Such a treasure could change the fate of entire clans.
Patriarch Xiong Tian handed the box to Lin Mu.
Lin Mu accepted it with both hands, his expression calm but his eyes bright.
"I thank the Martial Fist King Sect for this honor," Lin Mu said. "I will not waste
it."
The patriarch nodded. "I look forward to the day you grow even stronger.
Perhaps then, we may spar."
Lin Mu smiled faintly. "I will hold you to that, Patriarch."
So elders chuckled.
Others felt chills.
They could not tell whether this was ambition, confidence, or destiny speaking.
If Cattaleya had been awake, she would have shouted that she wanted to spar
the patriarch first. But she was still unconscious, resting under heavy guard
after being carried away.
The ceremony was kept short.
Patriarch Xiong Tian was not a man of speeches.
With a final declaration that the tournant had officially ended, he withdrew.
The crowd did not leave quickly.
People stared at Lin Mu like they were afraid he would vanish if they blinked.
So bowed.
So shouted his na.
So simply stood in silence, trying to engrave the mont into their hearts.
Lin Mu turned and walked toward his companions.
ng Bai nearly tackled him.
"Master!" he shouted. "You were amazing!"
Cattaleya was still being carried on a floating platform nearby, unconscious but
breathing steadily. Her face was bruised, her body wrapped in healing light.
Even like this, she looked fierce.
"She better wake up soon," ng Bai muttered. "She will explode if she misses
the banquet."
Daoist Chu laughed. "Explode is putting it lightly."
Elyon watched the surroundings carefully. He could already feel subtle gazes
probing Lin Mu from every direction.
Not all of them were friendly.
That night, the city did not sleep.
Fireworks of spiritual light filled the sky.
Taverns ran out of wine.
Betting halls were in chaos as winners collected mountains of Immortal stones
while losers drank themselves into misery. Of course, Elyon and Daoist Chu
were among the biggest winners.
rchants raised prices overnight.
Bards began composing songs about the One Flick Woman and the One Punch
Man.
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