Chapter 320

Chapter 320: Let It Be

The balance scale lurched violently, and Wang Jie’s side shot upward.

A contest of brute force?

Wang Jie clenched his fist and drove a punch down, Qi-Qi Convergence roaring through his body.

The impact thundered. The scale shuddered hard enough to halt its climb, and Wang Jie followed with another punch, and another, hammering the platform like he meant to break it in half.

Nearby spectators felt the world tilt. It was like standing beside a humanoid beast.

Across from them, Imperial Kun sprang up and slammed down again.

Boom.

Every landing made the scale tremble—and each strike carried even more power than Wang Jie’s punches.

Wang Jie’s eyes flashed with admiration. His strength had reached ninety-nine times the usual limit for the star-breaking realm. Among humans, that was monstrous. But some starry sky behemoths were born extraordinary.

Imperial Kun. Even the name sounded tyrannical.

“Brother Wang, I’ll help!”

Zhou Ye drew his bow and fired. This time it wasn’t a spreading ripple, but a single, precise shot. The arrow, condensed from starforce, cut through the void and pierced Imperial Kun’s body.

Imperial Kun wailed, its massive eyes snapping to Zhou Ye.

Zhou Ye fired again.

Someone on the opposite scale tried to intercept it—yet the arrow passed through him as if he were made of mist, then sank into Imperial Kun once more.

Imperial Kun whipped its tail, furious.

The world around the scales seemed the same, yet the people standing on them couldn’t have been more different.

On one side, Han Lin stood wreathed in dense swarms of black insects. On the other, the bald Wu Ming remained calm, his face unreadable.

“Let me see how strong someone who received Enlightenment Tea really is.”

Han Lin charged, and the insects behind him surged like a black storm, blotting out the sky.

These bugs were his own cultivation, not borrowed tools. And unlike the insects controlled by heaven-insect people, every one of Han Lin’s was lethally poisonous.

Wu Ming faced him and spoke slowly. “Your Excellency, please think carefully.”

Han Lin had wanted to challenge the Enlightenment Tea recipients for a long time.

He had even made his old servant boast at the Thousand Rivers that he would take the tournament’s crown—yet he hadn’t received Enlightenment Tea at all. Star Vault Vista clearly knew who he was; otherwise, they wouldn’t have reported on him.

And still, they hadn’t chosen him. In their eyes, he wasn’t worthy of the seven.

He didn’t argue about the others. He didn’t even argue about Wang Jie. Back on Blue Star, during the trial fight with Shu Mu Ye, Han Lin had seen something that stuck in his bones. Whatever Wang Jie’s current cultivation or combat style, that past scene alone was enough to earn respect.

But Wu Ming?

Wu Ming had never displayed his strength. Outsiders knew nothing about him—only that he could “enlighten” others into breakthroughs.

Did that make him strong in battle?

The Starry Sky Martial Tournament wasn’t a test of insight or guidance. It was a test of raw combat power.

Wu Ming walked into the black swarm and vanished beneath it in an instant.

Han Lin blinked. That easily?

He stared at the mound of writhing insects, eyes flickering. Whatever trick Wu Ming was playing, Han Lin would deal with everyone else first.

If the opposing scale lost its fighters, then even if Wu Ming was strong, could he really face all of them at once—including Han Lin?

Decision made, Han Lin vaulted over the insect-covered Wu Ming and plunged into the scale itself.

Dozens of full-star realm cultivators rushed to surround him. It didn’t matter. Even without the insect sea, Han Lin was a hurricane.

His palm dropped—Thousand Gu Myriad Poison Hand—and even the void itself seemed to stain. Anyone brushed by that power was eliminated on the spot. No one dared close in.

He moved through them like a tiger in a flock of sheep.

Zhong Yu stumbled back, fear hollowing him out.

He was peak full-star realm, recognized by Black-White Heaven as worthy to participate. He’d thought himself an elite. But against the universe’s notorious monsters, he was brittle as dry grass.

Han Lin swept past. Zhong Yu tried to retreat—

His body locked.

Then his skin cracked and shattered, inch by inch.

How?

Zhong Yu couldn’t even see the strike.

Han Lin kept cutting down fighters on the scale, and with every elimination, their side rose higher. Across from them, the opposing contestants lit up with hope.

Han Lin’s eyes narrowed. He would make the heaven-insect people regret this.

The last person vanished.

Han Lin stood alone, the scale beneath his feet lifted high. He turned back toward Wu Ming, who still lay buried under the living black tide.

Over, his posture said.

Outside, countless spectators watched through their personal terminals. There were over a thousand live feeds—too many contestants for anything less.

But this battle’s end meant half the field would be wiped away.

“No wonder Star Vault Vista’s special report mentioned Zhou Ye so much. He’s really cross-eyed.”

“Don’t underestimate him. If Star Vault Vista ranked him near the top, he’s no weakling.”

“I didn’t expect Imperial Kun to get involved.”

“And Wu Ming—what’s going on? He lost instantly? Not even a struggle?”

“No way.”

“Han Lin’s ruthless. One man eliminated everyone. No wonder he had his old servant boasting like that at the Thousand Rivers.”

“Is Gui Xiao Die facing Xiao Mu? Young Master Xiao?”

“Now that’s worth watching. Young Master Xiao is recognized as one of Jia Yi Sect’s geniuses. They say his blade-bone aspect is bizarre—he’s brushed against time.”

“Whether Star Vault Vista is really authoritative comes down to that match. Gui Xiao Die is one of the seven. Xiao Mu’s reputation wasn’t beneath hers—maybe even higher. If she loses, Star Vault Vista’s rankings are a joke.”

The commentary couldn’t reach the battlefield, but the tension could.

Imperial Kun thrashed like a loach trapped in a muddy pond. It was furious.

Zhou Ye kept firing, arrow after arrow. Imperial Kun raged helplessly, unable to retaliate, while everyone around it failed to block the shots.

And Wang Jie never stopped pressing down on their side of the scale. If Imperial Kun paused for even a breath, the balance would tilt and their platform would rise again.

It was suffocating—being beaten, unable to hit back, forced to keep jumping just to keep the contest alive.

Even after paying that price, the scale still climbed.

Finally, Imperial Kun snapped.

It roared and charged toward Zhou Ye, throwing everything else aside.

“Brother Kun Eight! The bigger picture!” someone shouted.

Imperial Kun’s eyes were bloodshot as it fixated on Zhou Ye—the hateful cross-eyed man.

Zhou Ye calmly nocked another arrow and fired. Imperial Kun’s body was covered in wounds, yet it forced its way forward and whipped its tail at him.

Wang Jie frowned, ready to move—

But Zhou Ye didn’t flinch. He kept firing at an unhurried pace, as if he hadn’t even seen the attack coming.

If you looked closely, his pupils had drawn even closer together, making him look even more cross-eyed.

The tail swept through Zhou Ye.

Through.

Imperial Kun froze, bewildered.

Zhou Ye shifted his stance, drawing like an archer shooting an eagle, and released.

The arrow pierced Imperial Kun’s skull and vanished into the void.

A heartbeat later, Imperial Kun began to dissolve.

It had lost.

Shock rippled through the crowd.

Beneath their feet, the balance scale plunged. The opposing side could no longer resist; they rose into the sky, touched the mercury-like firmament, and vanished.

No one expected Imperial Kun to fall to Zhou Ye.

They’d assumed it would be Wang Jie.

Imperial Kun was no weakling. A full-star realm cultivator was, at best, like a human infant to it.

Its intelligence wasn’t even fully formed.

And yet Zhou Ye’s archery still made everyone’s eyes light up.

When the scale finally sank into the abyss, Wang Jie’s vision snapped white.

He reappeared on a meadow plain. The air was clean, ordinary. Three strangers stood nearby, staring at one another in confusion.

Zhou Ye was gone.

More figures appeared.

“Huh?” Wang Jie muttered.

Cheng Feng.

Cheng Feng stared at him. “You?”

Wang Jie almost laughed. Of all people.

Cheng Feng’s expression tightened, wariness sinking into his bones. If the rule was to eliminate the nearest opponent, he was finished. He wasn’t Wang Jie’s match.

From Fengmen, Cheng Yi appeared as well. She saw Wang Jie and felt her heart drop.

Forget their older brother—she and Cheng Feng together still weren’t enough now.

Around them, other contestants instinctively backed away from Wang Jie, exchanging glances. No words, but the message was clear: if a fight broke out, they’d team up first.

More arrivals.

Then Cheng Feng’s face drained of color. “All right,” he breathed. “Now we’re really done.”

Xi Ci.

Old Man Du Mu’s disciple. The inheritor of the Upper Purity Seventy-Two Swords—a technique even Qing Huan, one of the four wandering gods, was rumored to have failed to master. A true heavenly talent.

Before the tournament, he had been a popular favorite. People had demanded to know why Star Vault Vista hadn’t given him Enlightenment Tea. Many swore he could take first place.

A wandering god candidate.

Someone like that—someone everyone was certain was strong—was, in a way, even more despair-inducing than Wang Jie. At least Wang Jie’s limits were unclear.

Xi Ci’s were not.

Xi Ci swept his gaze around, his eyes briefly passing over Wang Jie before sliding away again.

Cheng Feng looked at Xi Ci, then at Wang Jie, and let out a bitter breath.

“Let fate decide.”

Deep in the starry sky, a moon hung suspended. A pair of long, snow-white legs swung lazily in the dark, and Qing Huan propped her chin on one hand as she watched the light screen, smiling.

“This guy’s got some skill. He actually received Enlightenment Tea.”

“Junior Brother, looks like you’ve got a fight now.”

“Hey,” she added, annoyed, “hold it higher. I can’t see.”

In front of her, Wu Yan looked miserable, arm raised high, the screen trembling in his grip. “You can project it into the air. Why do you insist on making me hold it?”

Qing Huan snorted. “Because I like it. Problem?”

Wu Yan fell silent.

Ever since skyport had been taken away, his life had become a nightmare.

Qing Huan did whatever struck her fancy. One moment she ordered him to hunt down some fruit pastry. The next, she made him go curse someone on their doorstep.

He went, shaking, terrified he’d be butchered. Those people all looked like they could.

He was convinced she would get him killed one day.

He glanced at the screen and spotted Wang Jie. Jealousy burned. How did that bastard have such luck? He’d reached heights Wu Yan couldn’t even chase—yet Wu Yan had once hunted him down like prey.

More contestants appeared in the meadow.

Until the tenth arrived.

At the same time, a round sphere floated into the air above them.

The rules flooded into their minds.

Wang Jie blinked. This Starry Sky Martial Tournament was truly strange. He’d thought it would be one-on-one matches from the start. Instead, the eliminations came in waves.

This round was simple: ten people formed a team and attacked the sphere. The damage would display as a number.

If the combined damage exceeded 1.5 million, the team advanced. If it fell below 1.5 million, the entire team was eliminated.

And the higher your number, the more it would affect the next round.

One round could wipe out ten people at once.

With rules like this, most contestants would be eliminated.

Because 1.5 million, split evenly, meant 150,000 each.

Not every full-star realm cultivator could produce that.

In truth, most of the remaining full-star realm contestants still hadn’t reached true roaming-star realm combat power. Many were only peak full-star realm at 100,000—barely scraping the roaming-star realm threshold.