Three days flew by.
The massive training arena was packed with people.
It was the final day of the Bai Family's Sword Token qualification test. Whether they were direct descendants bearing the Bai surname or young followers from the Retainer Faction, many had shown up. Those who met the minimum requirement wanted to test their luck.
After all, the Sword Token Tournament only happened once every few years. Most of them knew they had no real chance of winning the sword token and becoming the leader of the Bai Family's younger generation. But just participating in the contest was already a noteworthy achievement.
Boom!
A loud crash echoed through the arena.
At the center stood a towering battle puppet over two meters tall. With one brutish swing of its staff, it sent Nan—who came from one of the Retainer Faction—flying across the field.
Nan was smashed straight to the edge of the arena, landing in a heap, looking utterly pathetic.
"Haha! Nan, your strength's still lacking. Most folks at the eighth level of the True Martial Realm can at least hold out two minutes against the battle puppet, but you only lasted one minute. You really embarrassed us," someone teased from the sidelines.
"I couldn't help it," Nan grumbled as he got to his feet. "I only broke through to the eighth level yesterday. My cultivation's still unstable—of course, I can't compare to you guys. Especially you, Ming—you're already at the peak of the eighth level."
The group didn't press the matter further.
Nan stepped back and rejoined Ming and the others, though deep down he was bitter.
"Damn it... If only I'd broken through a few days earlier and had time to stabilize my cultivation... If I'd also practiced that palm technique like my brother told me to, maybe I could've passed today's assessment." Nan thought to himself.
While he was still brooding, Ming leaned over and asked, "Nan, it's already this late... you think Zihua's still going to show up?"
"Zihua?" Just hearing the name made Nan grit his teeth in frustration.
Three days ago, he had lost to Zihua, and Zihua had even slapped out one of his teeth. The news had already spread far and wide—Ming and the others had definitely heard about it.
Not only that, they'd also heard that Zihua didn't just defeat Nan—he even declared he would participate in the Sword Token Tournament and vowed to kill Nan's older brother, Wei, during the fight.
Wei was currently the undisputed strongest among the younger generation of the two main factions within the Bai family.
As for Zihua, sure, three years ago he had been the top prodigy—more dazzling than Wei—but after being locked away in the Anti-Demon Dungeon for a full three years, everyone knew he was finished.
Especially when word got out that Zihua had only shown the cultivation level of the seventh level of True Martial Realm during his fight with Nan...
Naturally, no one took his words seriously. In fact, many treated him like a joke.
Guys like Ming were here today just to watch Zihua make a fool of himself.
"That guy Zihua is nothing but a delusional idiot," Nan scoffed. "Three days ago, when he fought me, he'd barely reached the seventh level of the True Martial Realm. But for the Sword Token assessment, the minimum requirement is the eighth level. He doesn't even meet the basic qualifications, and yet he's out here talking about fighting my brother and even killing him? What a joke."
"I'm actually hoping he does show up today. If he dares to come, I'll humiliate him in front of everyone and finally get my revenge!" Nan thought viciously.
Now that he had broken through to the eighth level, his strength had increased significantly. He was confident that if he fought Zihua again, he would definitely win.
After all, it had only been three days—there was no way Zihua could've made any real progress in such a short time.
Just then...
"Huh?" Nan turned to the side and saw someone walking slowly toward the center of the arena.
"Zihua? He actually showed up?" Nan's expression twisted into a snarl.
At that moment, everyone in the arena turned their attention to the Bai family's once-greatest prodigy—the one who had been locked away in the Anti-Demon Dungeon and had supposedly wasted the past three years of his life.
"Uncle Yun," Zihua walked to the center of the arena and gave a respectful nod to a middle-aged man in gray.
This man was Yun Bai, a full-stage Sea Transformation Realm cultivator and the one in charge of overseeing the Sword Token assessment. In terms of seniority, he was Zihua's second uncle.
"Zihua, you're here to take the assessment?" Yun looked at him with a complicated expression.
"Yes," Zihua nodded.
"You should know the rules. The minimum requirement to participate is the eighth level of the True Martial Realm," Yun reminded him.
"I'm at the eighth level," Zihua said calmly.
Then, with a slight shake of his body, a powerful wave of spiritual energy surged out around him. The intensity of that aura clearly showed he had reached the eighth level.
"He... he actually reached it? How is that possible?!" Nan, who had been watching from the sidelines, widened his eyes in disbelief. "No way! Just three days ago, he was only barely at the seventh level. How did he make it to the eighth in only three days?"
It felt unreal.
For most people, advancing from the seventh to the eighth level of the True Martial Realm required months—sometimes half a year or more—of intense training. Yet Zihua had done it in just three days?
What kind of sick joke was this?
Ming frowned and asked, "Nan, didn't you say he had just stepped into the seventh level of True Martial Realm three days ago?"
"How the hell would I know?" Nan's face darkened, but he quickly let out a cold snort. "Hmph, even if he did break through to the eighth level, so what? It's obvious he just made the breakthrough. Passing the test still won't be that easy."
In the Sword Token Tournament's trial, being at the eighth level of True Martial Realm was only the minimum requirement. Whether someone could actually pass the trial was a different story entirely.
Take Nan himself, for example—he was already at the eighth level, and he had just failed the trial.
If he couldn't pass it, how could Zihua—who had only just broken through—pass it?
At the center of the martial arena, Zihua stood with a sword in one hand, facing his assigned opponent for the trial: a humanoid battle puppet standing over two meters tall and wielding a long staff. Even though it was just a puppet, its strength was no joke. Nan had just been smacked across the arena by a single swing of that thing.
"Zihua, your task is simple," Yun said. "Use everything you've got and hold your ground under the puppet's assault. If you last three minutes, you pass."
"Got it," Zihua nodded.
"Begin."
With a wave of Yun's hand, the puppet immediately raised its massive black staff—nearly two meters long—and brought it crashing down toward Zihua.
It was a simple, brutal attack.
Zihua casually raised his sword to meet the blow head-on. The clash was evenly matched, and Zihua even seemed to have the upper hand.
He wasn't surprised. The puppet always started off weak—actually weaker than a newly advanced eighth level of the True Martial Realm cultivator—but it grew stronger as the fight progressed.
Although the puppet didn't know any fancy staff techniques or martial skills and just swung its weapon in crude, forceful strikes, its strength and speed would steadily increase.
Faced with such a predictable opponent—relying solely on brute strength and clumsy attacks—Zihua found it hard to take the fight seriously. After the initial exchange, he simply used his movement skills to dodge everything.
To the spectators around the arena, Zihua looked incredibly nimble.
Even as the puppet's strength and speed ramped up, it still couldn't even graze the edge of Zihua's robes.
"This bastard..." Nan looked absolutely miserable.
He had assumed Zihua would fall just as quickly as he had, maybe even faster—but now, Zihua had already lasted over three minutes and still looked completely unbothered.
"It's his movement skill," Ming narrowed his eyes slightly. "Zihua's using Phantom Technique, one of the Bai family's top six movement skills. Judging by the fluidity, he's likely mastered it completely. With a technique like that, he could easily hold out for over four minutes. This trial is no challenge for him."
The rules of the trial were simple: survive against the puppet for three minutes without being defeated. It didn't matter how you did it.
Even if Zihua avoided combat entirely and just kept dodging, as long as he didn't go down and held out long enough, he still passed.
"Ming, do me a favor," Nan said in a low voice. "Once Zihua finishes his trial, go up there and teach him a lesson."
"Huh?" Ming glanced at Nan and noticed the hatred written all over his face.