Chapter 323

Chapter 323: Ting Chen

Si Yao had shown Wang Jie a list of geniuses. Xiao Mu was one of them.

At first, Wang Jie hadn’t recognized the name. Later, after Star Vault Vista’s coverage, he understood exactly who Xiao Mu was.

Xiao Mu could brush past someone, do nothing at all—and that person would fall.

A genius Star Vault Vista valued. Jia Yi Sect’s Young Master Xiao.

Who could eliminate him so early?

On Qin Xiao Shu’s arena, the standoff tightened.

Qin Xiao Shu stopped three meters from Li Ao.

Li Ao stared at him with icy focus.

Neither moved.

Above them, starforce rumbled like distant thunder.

After three breaths, Qin Xiao Shu struck.

He extended a finger and tapped Li Ao’s back.

Li Ao’s fur stood on end. Starforce surged through its black star-sand to block—yet its back bent sharply as if struck by an invisible hammer.

Qin Xiao Shu tapped again.

And again.

Li Ao’s eyes widened. It spat blood. Fur snapped off in waves and spread outward, weaving through the air.

“Dou Huo Killing Array!”

Someone shouted.

The Dou Huo clan’s killing array—their bridgeway art—was notorious.

Li Ao had been pushed to the edge.

Most people couldn’t even tell what Qin Xiao Shu had done. They only saw the result: Li Ao was being dismantled.

Qin Xiao Shu chuckled, then turned his head as if chatting over tea.

“Kong Er,” he called, smiling at Qing Kong. “I’m pretty good, right?”

Li Ao went berserk.

This human wasn’t even looking at its killing array.

The fur in the air wrapped around starforce, forming a grotesque array that folded space. It closed in on Qin Xiao Shu, bending and twisting as if peeling an entire region away.

Wherever it passed, the void left behind a magma-red trail.

Far away, a young girl covered her mouth, eyes wide, pointing at the screen.

“Master! Senior Brother is in danger!”

Her master opened his eyes and watched the feed, expression unreadable.

“Dou Huo Killing Array. Heavenly Dao as Calamity Ash—once one of the star positions. Extremely powerful.”

The girl’s face went pale. “Then what do we do, Master?”

The master gave a small laugh. “Relax. That little thing can’t actually pull it off.”

On the arena, the magma-red trail hardened into crystals that stabbed through the void.

Li Ao sneered, confidence flooding its voice. “Human. Under Dou Huo Killing Array, you will die.”

Qin Xiao Shu was still half-turned, as if continuing his confession.

Li Ao roared. “Human, you—”

The array vanished.

Gone in an instant.

The arena emptied of formation lines as if someone had wiped them off reality.

Spectators froze.

Li Ao froze too, looking around in disbelief.

Where was it?

Where did the killing array go?

Qin Xiao Shu finally turned back, shaking his head with a helpless smile.

“Bu Zou Guan. Hidden-Breaking Seal.”

He sighed theatrically. “Sorry for showing off.”

Then he kicked.

Li Ao flew and vanished midair, eliminated.

The crowd stared at Qin Xiao Shu.

Was he really that strong?

He’d barely attacked—twice, at most—and he’d won cleanly.

Wang Jie watched him with narrowed eyes.

This man could conceal his qi. Even with qi sight, Wang Jie couldn’t read his true strength.

Bu Zou Guan.

The parent sect of the void mountains. Deep. Unfathomable.

“How does someone like that not receive Enlightenment Tea?” someone muttered.

The sentiment echoed quietly through many minds.

After Qin Xiao Shu’s match, the tournament slid back into dull rhythm.

Until Ting Chen faced Mo.

Wang Jie realized only then that he’d been so focused on Ting Chen that he’d missed her opponent.

Mo, from Third Zen Heaven.

Back at the Blue Star trials, Mo had been one of the few top fighters who hadn’t yet reached roaming-star realm. Others—like Qi Xue Yin—had already advanced.

The barrier dissolved.

Mo and Ting Chen faced each other.

Most spectators weren’t interested.

Ting Chen had no reputation. Star Vault Vista had never reported on her.

Mo came from Third Zen Heaven, but with so many major sects and factions present, a full-star realm cultivator from Third Zen Heaven didn’t draw attention.

Wang Jie watched Mo carefully.

Back on Blue Star, Mo had wielded a sword like a branch plucked from the wild. He still carried it now. It looked slightly more like a real sword, but the wood-like quality remained.

What was he waiting for?

“You can draw your sword,” Ting Chen said.

Her voice was cold. Even softened, it kept its distance.

Mo looked at her and felt a strange exhaustion crawl over him.

At entering zen, he could see it clearly: she had no openings.

And he could see something else just as clearly—he had no hope of winning.

Who was she? Where had she come from?

Why had he never even heard her name?

“I want to know Your Excellency’s name,” Mo said.

“Ting Chen.”

“Ting Chen…” Mo repeated, thinking.

Ting Chen tilted her head. “If you won’t move, then should I?”

Mo exhaled. He looked down at his sword. It wasn’t a chen artifact, so he had been allowed to bring it in.

“Can you tell me why it’s like this?” he asked quietly. “I have no hope of beating you.”

Ting Chen looked at him as if stating a simple fact. “When you reach Transforming Zen, you’ll understand.”

Mo nodded once, accepting it.

“I understand. I surrender.”

He stepped off the arena without hesitation and vanished.

Most spectators didn’t understand the exchange. They only scoffed, thinking the bald man lacked the courage to fight.

But those who understood went still.

If you needed Transforming Zen just to comprehend why there was no chance of victory…

Then to actually win, wouldn’t you need Zen Regression?

Across Third Zen Heaven, how many could reach that level?

Realm alone didn’t guarantee combat power. Some, like Wu Ming, could grasp profound insights at a young age.

Yet in most cases, the deeper the comprehension, the stronger the person.

Ting Chen had made a cultivator from Third Zen Heaven withdraw without a single strike.

A cultivator from Third Zen Heaven—whose Zen heart should have been unbreakable.

The tournament continued.

When Wang Jie fought again, his opponent was even weaker than the Dagger-Offering Order assassin. Wang Jie ended it easily.

The second round concluded.

Only seventy-five contestants remained.

That meant one person would get a bye.

One man found himself standing alone on an empty arena and had to bite down hard to keep from grinning too widely.

No one cared.

All eyes were on the first arena.

Xi Ci.

And his opponent—a boy who looked about ten.

Inside the tournament, contestants didn’t know the sphere scores.

Outside, the universe had gone silent.

Everyone stared at Jing Hong.

The boy who had pushed the sphere to 3,000,000.

Everyone wanted to see what kind of monster could do that. Even a hundred-star realm genius might fail.

Xi Ci was Old Man Du Mu’s disciple, a top-tier powerhouse. If anyone could understand Jing Hong, it would be him.

And yet Jing Hong looked wrong from the start.

Full-star realm cultivators could look young, but a child this small had no place in a tournament like this. If he truly had that kind of potential, he’d wait for roaming-star realm and compete there.

So he wasn’t what he seemed.

The barrier dissolved.

Jing Hong walked toward Xi Ci with a smile.

Xi Ci narrowed his eyes, thumb resting on the hilt, ready to draw.

He didn’t strike immediately because Jing Hong gave off nothing—no starforce, no killing intent, nothing at all. He walked like an ordinary child approaching an adult.

It was hard to even summon battle intent against him.

Jing Hong stopped within five meters.

Because Xi Ci’s sword was already out.

One more step, and Xi Ci would strike regardless.

In front of countless eyes, Jing Hong pulled out a red envelope and offered it with both hands.

“For you.”

Silence hit like a slap.

Xi Ci stared at the envelope. On it, stamped in gold, were four words: “May You Get Rich.”

Jing Hong looked up at him with clear, hopeful expectation.

Xi Ci stared back, then said flatly, “No.”

Jing Hong blinked. “Why?”

“Don’t want it.”

“You look down on me?”

“Make your move,” Xi Ci said, voice dropping. “Stop playing games.”

Jing Hong sighed and tucked the envelope away, sounding genuinely put out.

“Why does nobody accept my red envelopes? You people have no manners.”

He lifted his chin. “Fine. Draw your sword.”

Then he turned around and started walking away, giving Xi Ci his back.

Still no starforce. Still no intent.

He looked like a normal child wandering off.

Confusion spread through the crowd.

Xi Ci tightened his grip. “What do you mean?”

Jing Hong waved a hand without looking back. “Enough. Swing your sword. You can’t hit me anyway.”

The disdain in his tone snapped Xi Ci’s patience.

Xi Ci struck.

The blade flashed—a cold line tearing through the void—

And missed.

Xi Ci’s eyes narrowed. Jing Hong was so close the sword edge should have brushed his clothes.

And yet the strike passed cleanly through empty space.

No one understood how.

Jing Hong kept walking, back still turned, looking relaxed.

Xi Ci struck again. And again. Sword light flickered too fast to follow.

Every strike missed.

Every strike should have landed.

Jing Hong didn’t even veer off course.

He walked in a straight line.

“That’s impossible,” someone whispered.

“If he’s dodging, how is he walking straight?”

“Is it void power?”

Qin Xiao Shu watched with a hard expression. “It’s not void.”

Then what was it?

Wang Jie stared until his eyes burned.

He couldn’t see it.

Not even with qi sight.

Jing Hong’s qi didn’t change.

No—worse.

He seemed to have no qi at all.

Even ordinary people had qi.

So what was Jing Hong?

Outside, even star-refining realm eyes grew grave.

Deep in the starry sky, Qing Huan sat on her moon without a word.

Jing Hong finally spoke, still smiling.

“I’m going back to where I started. You have one last chance. Once I turn around…”

He paused, amusement curling his mouth.

“You’ll be gone.”