Liu Mei watched it all unfold with a serene expression, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

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Within minutes, chaos erupted across the battlefield. The once-confident Silver Rank fighters were forced onto the defensive, their swords barely keeping up with the flurry of attacks coming from all directions.

One of them, the scarred man who had initially led the attack, was now fending off three Warrior Rank contestants, his face twisted in disbelief.

"Damn it! We were supposed to take her down, not get swarmed!"

Another Silver Rank fighter barely dodged a flying kick from an enraged Warrior Rank. "This—this isn’t how it was supposed to go!"

Liu Mei twirled in place, effortlessly sidestepping a stray attack before tapping her chin in mock contemplation.

"Oh dear… it looks like you’re a little busy. Should I come back later?"

Her teasing only fueled their frustration.

A Silver Rank growled. "You little—"

He didn’t get to finish. A Warrior Rank contestant tackled him from the side, sending both of them rolling across the battlefield.

Ace, watching from the stands, let out a low whistle.

"Damn. She’s turning them into her personal demolition crew."

For once, the voice inside didn’t mock, and instead praised Liu mei.

She’s manipulating the flow of battle perfectly. Every move she makes forces someone else into action. This isn’t just skill—it’s purely instinctual.

Back in the arena, the tide had completely turned. The Silver Ranks, who should have been the dominant force, were being dismantled piece by piece, their own frustration and recklessness making them vulnerable.

Liu Mei, untouched and smiling, finally decided it was time to wrap things up.

She exhaled softly, and then—

She moved.

In an instant, she was among them.

A flick of her wrist—one Silver Rank was sent flying.

A shift in her stance—another tripped over his own retreating ally.

She danced through the battlefield like a specter, every step measured, every action deliberate. She wasn’t just fighting—she was orchestrating.

And one by one, her opponents fell.

The last standing Silver Rank stumbled back, eyes darting around at his fallen allies. "No way… this can’t be happening."

Liu Mei tilted her head. "I get it. It’s a lot to take in."

With a single swift motion, she closed the distance.

The final Silver Rank barely had time to react before a sharp chop landed against his shoulder.

His body went stiff—then collapsed.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Then—

"And the victor of the 19th round—Lady Liu Mei, a peak Silver Rank!" the announcer’s voice boomed.

Ace leaned back, grinning. "Well, that was fun."

Liu Mei, still on the battlefield, clapped her hands together as if dusting them off. Then, she turned and walked off the stage—like she’d just finished a casual stroll.

The crowd was in turmoil, their disbelief palpable. No one had expected the girl to win—let alone dominate the battlefield with such effortless cunning.

Whispers rippled through the stands, some filled with awe, others with outright shock.

But those who truly understood the weight of this victory—the ones who knew the inside story—were even more shaken.

Among the defeated fighters had been a true disciple from one of the top sects.

Their identity remained a mystery, as was tradition. These disciples often entered tournaments undercover, only revealing themselves upon victory, their triumph a statement of their sect’s dominance.

But this time—

An unknown girl had emerged victorious.

She hadn’t relied on brute strength. She hadn’t overwhelmed them with raw power.

She had outmaneuvered them. Played them against each other. Walked away without a scratch.

It was sneaky, sure. But it was a victory nonetheless.

….

….

Inside a grand pavilion overlooking the arena, two figures sat in quiet observation.

Hua Ting stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as he turned to Shan Yifeng.

"Shan Yifeng, why didn’t you mention that your senior sister was this strong?"

Shan Yifeng met his gaze with a calm, unwavering expression. "You never asked."

Hua Ting let out a hearty laugh. "Hoho, fair enough! But tell me, are you confident in facing the Xiao family’s prodigy? It seems they’ve brought a monster this time."

Shan Yifeng remained silent for a moment. The so-called monster in question—Xiao Ling—was infamous.

The Xiao family’s brightest talent. A Gold Rank cultivator before adulthood. A genius whose name echoed throughout the region.

Rumor had it that the Hua family had even tried to pressure the Xiao family into marrying Xiao Ling into their bloodline—an attempt to claim that monstrous talent for themselves.

Shan Yifeng clenched his fists, his resolve sharpening.

A talent beyond words, already Gold Rank… But I can stand my ground, even at Peak Silver.

Master didn’t feed me the best foods made available in the world for nothing.

His lips parted, his voice steady, unwavering.

"I’ll win."

It wasn’t arrogance. It was confidence—hard-earned and absolute.

Yet, Hua Ting only chuckled, mistaking it for either youthful pride or an attempt to reassure himself. He hoped it was the latter.

"Alright then. The ’real’ tournament begins tomorrow. Get some rest and be ready."

With that, Hua Ting turned and led the way.

Shan Yifeng followed, his mind razor-sharp, his heart steady.

…..

…..

Xiao Ling, who had remained indifferent throughout the tournament, finally stirred as Xiao Wuzi’s voice reached him.

"Look, kid," Xiao Wuzi said, his tone casual yet laced with something heavier. "That girl… she’ll reach Gold Rank soon. Maybe mid-fight. Maybe before it even begins."

Xiao Ling’s gaze sharpened. "Family Head, what is it that you’re trying to say?" he asked warily.

Xiao Wuzi chuckled, a low, knowing sound.

"Oh, no, no. I won’t send you to eliminate the problem before it fully sprouts." He turned, his gaze now locked onto a figure in the distance.

"But I do want you to dig into the man she’s with."

Xiao Ling followed his gaze. The moment his eyes landed on the young man, his expression shifted—recognition, disbelief, something close to confusion.

"Family Head… don’t you remember? He—he was part of the Xiao family. Xiao Zhi," Xiao Ling uttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "One word and—"

He never got to finish.

Xiao Wuzi vanished.

A breath later, he reappeared in front of Ace, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

"Hahahaha… I never expected—" His laughter was low and mocking. "I never expected that you were such a useless waste of potential, even as a child."

Ace’s body tensed. Instinctively, he shifted, placing Liu Mei behind him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Memories flooded his mind—the weight of the past pressing against him. This was the man responsible for the predecessor’s exile. The man who had once dictated his fate.

From the side, another voice sliced through the tension.

"Wuzi," Hua Hua spoke lazily, his amusement barely masking the steel beneath his words. "He’s a guest of our Hua family. Should I take this as a declaration of war?"

Xiao Wuzi didn’t even spare him a glance. "Scram. This is a family matter."

Hua Hua laughed. "Oh, please. You disowned him, remember?"

The air grew heavy, thick with presence of intense bloodlust.

A clash of auras filled the space—two Dark Gold Rank experts standing face to face, their presence alone enough to make weaker cultivators break into a cold sweat.

Neither moved.

Neither backed down.

The moment stretched, thick with unsaid promises of bloodshed.

Then—

Other presences stirred. More and more figures emerged, watching, waiting.

Xiao Wuzi’s eyes flickered with calculation before he slowly stepped back.

A minor setback. Nothing more.

"Bunch of mortals," he sneered, his thoughts simmering with malice.

Just wait. I’ll be ascending soon enough. That’s when I’ll come for your necks.

His gaze snapped back to Ace, colder than before.

"Xiao Zhi," he said, his voice a whisper of death.

"We’ll meet again."

He turned, stepping away—but not before throwing one final promise over his shoulder.

"And that will be our last meeting."