Cangyun City, Tianfu Street. A large crowd of martial artists had gathered in a spacious courtyard, the air buzzing with noise.

"Six people now, plus Qiu Lan. We just need one more to make it eight," a young man in the crowd muttered, his eyes fixed ahead. "Damn it, these guys are insanely strong. I've got to snag that eighth spot."

"Are you dreaming?" scoffed a voice next to him. "That eighth spot's basically already taken. Qiankun's at the ninth level of the Qi Martial Realm—way stronger than most of the family heirs here. He didn't even bother fighting for it earlier. Why? Because he knows that spot's his. You really think you're stronger than Qiankun?"

The young man's face darkened at the mention of Qiankun's name, frustration washing over him. It seemed like this time, at the Cangyun City Martial Meet hosted by the City Lord's mansion, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Word had spread that the City Lord's mansion would hold the Cangyun City Martial Meet again. This time, besides the Four Great Families, promising young martial artists from smaller families, and even those without family backing, could participate. However, there were only eight spots available for them.

The City Lord's family, the Nalan family, the Yan family, the Li family, and the Chen family each had eight slots, making up thirty-two of the best young fighters in Cangyun City. This was an enormous honor, a chance to shine under the eyes of the entire city. Who wouldn't want to be in the spotlight?

But those eight coveted spots for the rest of Cangyun's young talents? Seven had already been claimed. The last one was basically guaranteed to go to Qiankun.

Qiankun stood tall in a blue robe, his lean frame exuding arrogance. He crossed his arms as he walked to the front of the crowd, his voice dripping with indifference. "The last spot is mine."

The crowd seethed with anger at his cocky stance. Some were itching to step up and challenge him, but the moment they remembered his strength, they could only sigh inwardly, resigned to being spectators once again.

Qiankun's gaze swept across the hundreds gathered before him, his eyes full of disdain.

"A bunch of cowards. Not even brave enough to fight for it. Since none of you have the guts, I'll just take it." Qiankun sneered as he started walking towards the grand hall. Inside, seven people were already seated—Qiu Lan and the six others who had been selected.

"This guy is as arrogant as the rumors say. Word is, he's ruthless too. If anyone dares challenge him and loses, they'll end up crippled," the crowd thought, gritting their teeth in frustration. No one dared speak up, though. Qiankun's cruelty was well-known in Cangyun City, and few below the Spirit Martial Realm could even hope to match him, allowing his arrogance to run wild.

The angry crowd could only watch as Qiankun approached the hall, step by step.

"Hey wait." A quiet voice suddenly broke the silence, sounding unnaturally clear in the still courtyard. The crowd turned in surprise, their eyes widening as they saw a young man stepping forward.

He wore a simple white robe—nothing fancy, but neat and clean. A long sword hung on his back, and his frame was lean but well-proportioned. What truly caught people's attention, though, were his eyes: bright, clear, yet with a deep, unfathomable quality, belying his age. Those clear eyes seemed to hold wisdom far beyond his years.

Many of the young talents in the crowd, despite their own pride, suddenly felt a bit humbled in his presence.

This young man was none other than Li Xiaoyao, freshly washed and dressed. After hearing about the commotion here, he had come straight over, arriving just in time.

Qiankun glanced at Li Xiaoyao, his arms still crossed over his chest. His eyes scanned Li from top to bottom, somewhere between a sneer and a mocking smile.

"Are you the one telling me to wait?"

"Yup, it's me, sup?" Li Xiaoyao replied calmly, seemingly oblivious to the condescension in Qiankun's gaze.

A smirk tugged at Qiankun's lips as he looked at the youth, who appeared just a year or two younger than himself. "Do you know what happens when you make me wait?"

Li Xiaoyao smiled wryly. Was it just a trend among the so-called geniuses of the martial world to act so full of themselves?

Without a word, he began walking towards Qiankun. The crowd froze, stunned by what they were witnessing. Was this guy insane? He couldn't be more than sixteen years old. Even the most talented heirs from the great families had only reached the seventh or eighth level of the Qi Martial Realm by that age. How could someone like him possibly stand up to Qiankun?

The crowd couldn't believe that this kid would dare challenge Qiankun. Only the most gifted young fighters from the Four Great Families of Cangyun City could hope to match him, and they were certain Li Xiaoyao wasn't one of them.

"So, it looks like you want to step into that hall as well. I don't know whether I should admire your courage or pity your stupidity. Since you want to fight, I'll just cripple your cultivation," Qiankun said, looking down at Li Xiaoyao with a condescending gaze, as if staring from a mountaintop.

Clang!

The sound of a sword hummed through the air, followed by a brief flash of cold steel. A dull thud echoed as Qiankun's body skidded across the ground, coming to a stop nearly a hundred meters away.

A fountain of blood sprayed from his mouth as he collapsed to one knee, coughing violently. Blood continued to drip from his lips, staining the dirt beneath him.

The sword gleamed once more before vanishing back into its sheath, secured at Li Xiaoyao's side.

The crowd's eyes widened in shock, their hearts pounding. Did Li Xiaoyao just send Qiankun flying with a single strike?

"He's so powerful," the crowd murmured in disbelief. He couldn't be more than sixteen, yet Qiankun, at the peak of the ninth level of the Qi Martial Realm, couldn't even withstand a single blow. What's more, Li Xiaoyao had clearly held back—using only the flat of his blade. If he had struck with full force, Qiankun would be dead already.

"You talk too much shit," Li Xiaoyao said coldly, not even glancing at Qiankun as he turned and walked toward the grand hall. It was as if, in his eyes, Qiankun wasn't even worth the effort of a second look.

As Qiankun watched Li Xiaoyao's retreating figure, a whirlwind of thoughts spun through his mind.

"You talk too much shit."

That was Li Xiaoyao's parting remark.

The path of martial arts is one that defies heaven itself—a pursuit of longevity, of power that can shake the heavens and earth, even bend the laws of nature. It demands unimaginable willpower and perseverance. But here he was, stuck at the ninth level of the Qi Martial Realm, acting like a frog at the bottom of a well, full of arrogance and blind pride. That sword strike... he deserved it.

Struggling to his feet, Qiankun bowed deeply toward Li Xiaoyao's back. It wasn't out of fear or submission—it was gratitude. Li Xiaoyao had shattered the chains that had kept his martial heart locked away in arrogance.

The crowd watched in confusion, though a few eyes flickered with understanding, sensing the deeper shift within Qiankun.

Li Xiaoyao, unaware of the bow, continued into the grand hall, where the eyes of the seven seated figures immediately fixed on him. Especially Qiu Lan, who sat at the head of the group. She had seen Li Xiaoyao once before, back at the Tingfeng Tavern, and she knew exactly who he was. Moreover, she had some idea of what Li Xiaoyao had endured within the Li family.

"I need a spot to participate in this martial contest." Li Xiaoyao's gaze landed on Qiu Lan. His voice was calm but carried a steely resolve. He had to join this battle—no matter what.

"How dare you!" A man sitting just below Qiu Lan slammed his hand on the table in front of him, shattering it into pieces.

"Who do you think you are, speaking to Qiu Lan like that?" The man's name was Wu Hao, and he had long harbored a fantasy about the beautiful and talented Qiu Lan. His strength was formidable, too, at the peak of the ninth level of the Qi Martial Realm—far above Qiankun's level.

In his mind, Li Xiaoyao's victory over Qiankun was a fluke, probably because he'd caught Qiankun off guard. Wu Hao believed he could do the same, if not better. He planned to teach Li Xiaoyao a lesson and prove his strength to Qiu Lan.

Li Xiaoyao gave Wu Hao a single glance before calmly walking toward him. Wu Hao immediately stood up, his aura flaring as he prepared for a fight.

In a flash, a brilliant white sword light filled the room, so bright it stung the eyes. Wu Hao didn't even have time to react before a sharp cry escaped his lips, clutching his wrist in agony.

Now that Li Xiaoyao had stepped into the Spirit Martial Realm, even his casual sword strikes were on a whole different level—far more precise and deadly than before.

Without hesitation, Li Xiaoyao grabbed Wu Hao by the throat and lifted him off the ground, dragging him toward the entrance of the hall.

"What use is trash like this in the martial contest?"

With that, Li Xiaoyao delivered a swift kick, sending Wu Hao's body flying through the air, crashing hard into the crowd gathered outside.