Chapter 321

Chapter 321: A Shocking Number

Fighting above your realm sounded easy when spoken aloud, but in practice, even a large sect might only produce a handful capable of it.

In Black-White Heaven, among full-star realm cultivators, Wang Jie had barely seen anyone exceed 100,000 combat power.

Of course, there had to be monsters—people like him, whose combat power could surpass 500,000 and cover for weaker teammates. But those were rare. How many teams could you really carry?

Cheng Feng smiled.

The others smiled too.

This rule was perfect for them. It cost them nothing—and with two giants in their group, it practically guaranteed advancement.

They grinned like fools. None of them expected to take the crown when facing legends, but surviving one more round was still worth celebrating.

“Let me set an example,” someone offered, stepping up to the sphere.

He released his starforce, leapt, and kicked.

The sphere didn’t budge. Numbers flickered above it and settled at 118,000.

For full-star realm, that was decent—elite in any faction.

After all, the theoretical peak of full-star realm was 100,000. Anything beyond that meant fighting above your realm.

If a team had even one powerhouse worthy of Star Vault Vista coverage, then the others only needed to hit 100,000 each to pass.

But without a powerhouse, everyone needed 150,000, and that was brutal.

In other words, this rule was designed to wipe out the unlucky teams—those who’d been matched without a strong back.

One contestant after another attacked.

Then Cheng Feng stepped forward.

His strike added a clean 300,000.

Gasps rose. Everyone stared at him, suddenly realizing this group wasn’t made of ordinary stragglers.

A full-star realm cultivator with 300,000 combat power was no joke.

Even without Wang Jie or Xi Ci, Cheng Feng alone could have carried dead weight.

Cheng Feng didn’t look pleased. Not when the true monsters still hadn’t moved.

The number above the sphere now read 1,087,600.

They had already cleared the threshold.

Wang Jie, as a six-path roamer, had a baseline combat power of at least 500,000.

Now it was only a question of how far they could push the score.

The rules had said higher numbers would affect the next round. Wang Jie suspected their score would hit the ceiling. It was hard to imagine any other team being lucky enough to draw both him and Xi Ci.

There were more than ten thousand teams in this round. After the Balance Battle, nearly a hundred thousand contestants remained.

With that many teams, powerhouses should have been scattered.

And yet, fate could always be worse—or better.

Outside, the universe went quiet as it watched one particular team.

Gui Xiao Die. Hou Qing Ge. Wen Qing.

Three Enlightenment Tea recipients—three of the chosen seven—on the same team.

No one who saw it knew what to say.

It was absurd.

The other seven teammates dragged them down, barely scraping together 800,000 between them.

It didn’t matter.

Gui Xiao Die and Hou Qing Ge both glanced toward Wen Qing.

Wen Qing stepped forward. He raised his hand, palm down. Starforce surged around him and spread into droplets, as if overlapping with the void itself. In each drop, it seemed like a phantom was repeating a palm technique—endless, heavy, layered.

Gui Xiao Die arched a brow. “White Dew, Southern Sky. One of Jia Yi Sect’s eighteen ultimate techniques.”

She clicked her tongue. “It’s fine. Just too flashy.”

Wen Qing didn’t respond. He struck the sphere.

The water curtain rippled outward, twisting the void.

The number above the sphere jumped to 1.3 million.

More than 500,000 in a single blow.

Impressive.

Gui Xiao Die sneered. “Men. Hmph.”

Wen Qing glanced at her. “Miss Xiao Die seems to know my Jia Yi Sect quite well.”

“Enough,” Gui Xiao Die said lazily. “Countless people seek marriage with the Cold-Smoke Ferry. Jia Yi Sect has sent plenty.”

Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “And I just dealt with someone named Xiao Mu.”

Wen Qing’s gaze sharpened. “You beat Xiao Mu?”

Gui Xiao Die didn’t answer. She stepped up to the sphere, and her starforce surged into the shape of a swimming fish, gliding through the void before crashing into the target.

Outside, people murmured in admiration.

“The Cold-Smoke Ferry’s Fish-Watching Force looks ordinary, but it was trained beneath the Thousand Rivers. Its force can resist the Thousand Rivers tide. Paired with the Zuo Wang Bei Ming Art, anyone who underestimates it gets punished.”

“Xiao Mu lost to Fish-Watching Force.”

“Xiao Mu was strong. His blade-bone aspect could cut a delayed One Blade out of nowhere. That blade would land for sure—just not at a predictable time. One mistake and you’d lose.”

“But he met her.”

“Besides Fish-Watching Force, the Cold-Smoke Ferry has Tree-Guard Stance. She looks carefree and arrogant, but she’s steady. Her Tree-Guard Stance is near flawless.”

“Xiao Mu’s defeat was inevitable.”

“Now the question is whether Wen Qing can beat her and win back face for Jia Yi Sect.”

Gui Xiao Die pushed the number up to 1.8 million.

She didn’t linger. She hadn’t come here to show off.

Five hundred thousand was enough.

Hou Qing Ge stepped forward next.

Most people didn’t know her well. Even within Sword Pool, few seemed to understand her.

The biggest story tied to her name was Enlightenment Tea.

She’d received it—then had it stolen.

The news had spread everywhere, drawing endless mockery.

Sword Pool didn’t care.

Hou Qing Ge didn’t either.

She accepted it quietly, then came to the tournament just as quietly.

Bridgeway Art: small makes a sword, great shapes a person.

The score rose to 2.3 million.

Another 500,000.

But unlike Wen Qing and Gui Xiao Die, she needed Bridgeway Art to reach it. The other two had done it with a simple strike.

Inside the arena, none of them could hear the outside debate.

In Wang Jie’s team, Xi Ci stepped forward.

He thrust once.

The sphere didn’t move. The number climbed to 1.6 million.

People had hoped to witness the Upper Purity Seventy-Two Swords. They saw nothing of the sort.

Then it was Wang Jie’s turn.

He stared at the sphere, clenched his fist, and punched.

2,000,000.

Only four hundred thousand.

It startled the onlookers.

Wang Jie had defeated a six-path roamer. His combat power should have been above 500,000.

Was he hiding his strength?

Two million still felt like it should be the highest score of the round.

Then the universe fell silent.

A single score flashed on the screen.

3,000,000.

Three million.

At the sphere, a boy who looked barely twelve scratched his head and gave an embarrassed laugh. “Uh… did I use too much force?”

It was a number no one dared imagine.

Even the team with three Enlightenment Tea recipients had only reached 2.3 million.

This boy had dragged the score to three million in one move—so high it stopped making sense.

Until that moment, no one had even noticed his team, because they were utterly ordinary.

His name was Jing Hong.

In that moment, the entire universe learned it.

Teams finished one after another. Many failed to reach the threshold and were eliminated.

They attacked again and again, but only the strongest strike counted. If you couldn’t break your own limit, the number barely moved.

The Balance Battle had already cut the field in half. This sphere cut down what remained.

Nearly a hundred thousand had entered this round.

More than eighty thousand vanished.

Only a bit over ten thousand remained.

Then the battlefield changed again.

The earth rose in the distance, forming a massive cone whose center shot toward the sky.

Wang Jie and his group were lifted higher and higher, while silhouettes appeared below them on lower tiers.

They had to turn around to see up the cone.

Behind them, on a higher tier, Gui Xiao Die’s team appeared.

And at the very top, Jing Hong’s silhouette stood out like a nail hammered into the sky.

Gui Xiao Die and the others turned in shock.

Someone had scored higher than them.

How?

Were all ten members of that team monsters?

As the cone rose, clear steps formed beneath everyone’s feet.

The highest tier belonged to Jing Hong’s team. Below them was Gui Xiao Die’s. Below that, Wang Jie’s.

From Wang Jie’s tier downward, the tiers grew crowded, though the numbers varied. Even on the same tier, teams were spaced far apart.

From a distance, the arrangement became obvious.

People were lined up in straight vertical lines across the cone. Some lines were long, some short.

Then the rules arrived.

Simple. Brutal.

People on the same line could attack and eliminate one another. The cone would remain until only three hundred contestants were left standing.

A massacre, dressed as a rule.

It let the strong prune the weak—and also gave the weak a chance to band together.

It looked like the Balance Battle, but it wasn’t. In the Balance Battle, luck mattered because the teams were fixed.

Here, luck mattered far less.

Especially for those standing high.

The higher you stood, the higher your sphere score. And the higher your score, the more everyone assumed your combat power.

Whether you’d been carried or not, the first target on any line would be the person at the top.

“Are you kidding me? That’s how they’re playing it?”

“They said higher numbers would affect the next round. They didn’t say it would be bad.”

“What the hell—”

Down at the bottom tiers, people laughed. They were the least threatening, the least noticeable.

Wang Jie lifted his head slowly.

The top three tiers each held exactly ten people, which meant those tiers belonged to the same line.

Above Wang Jie stood a pale-faced girl. Above her stood a middle-aged man.

Below him, no famous names.

Good.

Then a shout rang out.

“Wang Jie is on our line! Everyone, team up and eliminate him first!”

“Yes! Go!”

Wang Jie was too conspicuous. The two people above him were ignored—partly because they were, in truth, only that high due to luck.

None of this surprised him.