Chapter 131: The Ten Named Disciples

"Judging by his blade technique, he must be practicing the 'Wind-Facing Slash.' This is a very common technique, with nothing particularly remarkable about it. Yet, in his hands, why has it become so extraordinary?"

The speaker this time was Zhang Chengxuan, who presided over the Qingyang Peak Library. With his profound knowledge of martial arts, he was undoubtedly the most qualified to speak on the subject, and he identified Yang Ze’s technique at a glance.

"Such pure killing intent—there are very few martial arts in the entire Academy capable of cultivating such a quality. And that blade aura... while it cannot compare to that of a true blade master, its appearance in a registered disciple who has yet to even step into the First-Grade Bone Tempering Realm is truly unusual."

Another elder spoke up. He looked at Yang Ze, his eyes filled with undisguised appreciation.

"Enough, everyone. Put those thoughts away. This Yang Ze was brought back by Elder Ning, and judging by Elder Ning's attitude, he values him highly. You all know Elder Ning's temperament; it would be best not to meddle with someone he has taken an interest in." Xie Yuan spoke for the first time, and the moment he did, the area fell silent.

They were not intimidated by Xie Yuan himself, but by the Ning Teng he mentioned. Consequently, any lingering ideas they had about Yang Ze were quickly suppressed.

Having experienced a stroke of fortune in the library, Yang Ze’s mastery of the blade had reached a new level. Combined with the even more perfect version of the "Wind-Facing Slash" replicated from the Black Stone, his technique had finally ascended to a higher realm.

On the arena, Yang Ze, unaware that his improvement had caught the attention of a group of Fifth-Grade elders, focused his entire being on this single strike. He was determined to unleash the most powerful blow he was currently capable of!

As the wave of energy pushed out by Shui Ziming’s palms reached him, the momentum in Yang Ze’s body finally hit its peak. He slashed out with his Blood Fiend Blade.

This strike drew upon all the killing intent lingering on the arena, carrying a ferocious blade momentum that converged into a single, overwhelming blade aura.

The moment the energy wave collided with the blade aura, the unleashed killing intent tore the energy wave apart. The internal True Essence could not block the killing intent, nor could it withstand the blade aura.

The True Essence collapsed, the energy wave dissipated, and the blade aura surged forward without signs of stopping, carving a deep furrow into the arena floor as it slashed toward Shui Ziming.

Shui Ziming’s expression changed drastically. He unleashed his remaining True Essence, but his essence, which could normally crush ordinary energy, proved as fragile as paper against this blade aura; it was shattered instantly.

Now, with no means left to block Yang Ze’s attack, Shui Ziming was left completely exposed.

He could no longer maintain his composure. Terror filled his eyes as he retreated, trying to dodge, but it was impossible—the speed of the blade aura was too fast, leaving him no chance to escape.

Facing a life-or-death crisis, Shui Ziming cast aside his pride and shouted, "I concede!"

As soon as he shouted, the deacon below stepped forward, reaching the arena in a single stride. He emitted a protective layer of True Essence from his hands, shielding Shui Ziming.

The moment the barrier formed, the blade aura struck.

Boom!

A massive force and shockwave erupted. Nearly half of the arena collapsed, and dust rose into the air, obscuring Shui Ziming, who stood at the center.

The deacon arrived just in time, waving his palm to create a suction force that lifted Shui Ziming’s body.

Shui Ziming had already fainted. While the protective barrier had kept him from being injured, it had been cast in a hurry by the Third-Grade deacon. It was sufficient to shield him from direct harm, but it could not fully absorb the impact; under the violent tremors, Shui Ziming had lost consciousness.

Yang Ze sheathed his blade. He was pale, and his body swayed slightly.

This strike had nearly drained his physical and mental strength. Now that he saw Shui Ziming defeated, his tension eased, and he nearly struggled to stay on his feet.

He had won. He had finally defeated Shui Ziming, a "half-step to the First-Grade" disciple. It was a pity that there was no opportunity to kill him during this martial arts tournament; otherwise, with the power of that strike, it wouldn't have been impossible.

The deacon announced Yang Ze’s victory. Deafening cheers erupted from one side of the stands, immediately drawing Yang Ze’s gaze.

The vast majority of those gathered there were registered disciples from District D. Seeing Yang Ze display such power and defeat Shui Ziming, they went wild, screaming and shouting Yang Ze’s name.

For three years, the rules had been lax, and the Water Gate sect had committed many evils in District D. Now that their leader had been defeated—by a Ninth-Stage True Essence disciple, no less—they all felt a sense of relief.

Listening to the cheers, a sense of pride welled up in Yang Ze’s weary heart. These people were shouting for him; it was a feeling few could easily refuse.

Clenching his fists, Yang Ze sat cross-legged and took out some prepared healing medicine.

After so many battles, the toll on him was too great. If he didn't recover, he would have no strength left to fight.

He had plenty of "Qi-Recovery Powder" prepared. He took a bottle, consumed it, and began to circulate his cultivation technique to restore his True Essence.

He dared not use the Black Stone here, as it emitted light. With the Fifth-Grade elders watching every move, if they discovered his secret, he feared he would be captured on the spot. So, for the sake of caution, he had to rely on himself.

Fortunately, while he couldn't afford "Qi-Recovery Pills," he could afford the powder, which was more than enough for registered disciples of their level.

...

Two full hours passed before Yang Ze heard sounds around him. He ceased his technique, opened his eyes, and looked around.

The surrounding arenas were somewhat damaged, with bloodstains still left on them, proving the fierce battles that had taken place.

By now, the hundreds of thousands of original disciples had been whittled down to the final twenty-five. He was one step closer to the Top Ten.

A voice called out from nearby. Yang Ze looked up, saw a deacon beckoning him, and walked over.

After stepping off the arena, the other twenty-four disciples also descended. They were guided by the deacons toward the high platform.

They stopped at the foot of the platform, and the deacons who had brought them retreated.

Seeing this, Yang Ze’s heart tightened. The moment had finally arrived—it was time to decide the Top Ten.

Selecting the final ten from twenty-five didn't require further fighting; there was a different ritual.

Thinking of this, Yang Ze looked up at the high platform. Standing there, he could finally see the elders sitting above.

Just as his gaze extended upward, a wave of pressure descended. His eyes stung, and his head bowed involuntarily; he dared not look up again.

Yang Ze inwardly cursed these elders for being so arrogant, forcing him down just because he took a look.

Internal curses aside, he dared not show it on the surface. Once his eyes recovered, he kept his gaze fixed ahead, not daring to look up again.

Just then, a roar echoed from the platform, and a three-zhang-tall stone tablet slammed down in front of them.

The surface of the tablet was weathered, but the moment it appeared, it drew everyone’s undivided attention.

"You will each step forward. The ten people who successfully leave their names on the stone tablet will be the Top Ten registered disciples of this tournament!" Xie Yuan’s voice reached everyone’s ears. They were all familiar with the rules, so no one asked questions.

Yang Ze stared at the tablet. It was a custom-made artifact from Qingyang Hall, imbued with the True Essence of a Fifth-Grade Qi Sea Realm martial artist, creating a powerful aura.

To leave a name, one had to withstand this pressure. After everyone had finished, the tablet would undergo a "cleansing," leaving only the ten deepest inscriptions while washing away the rest. Those ten would be the Top Ten.

There were no restrictions on how one left their name—weapons were allowed. Because of this rule, Yang Ze had been determined to fight for a spot; possessing a high-grade sharp weapon gave him a significant advantage over the others.

"Begin." As Xie Yuan’s command came down, they began to step forward in the pre-arranged order.

The first to step forward was a woman at the "half-step to the First-Grade" level. She had an ordinary appearance. Fixing her gaze on the tablet, she raised her right hand and pressed it against the surface.

As she did, an invisible ripple radiated from the tablet, resisting her touch. But the woman exerted her True Essence, fighting against the pressure, and at a very slow pace, finally pressed her palm to the stone.

The moment of contact, a wisp of True Essence sparked from her fingertip, and she began to carve her name into the stone.