“Who is that black-robed youth?” Xu Zimo asked as he looked at the Breaking Dawn God-Dynasty’s last participant, the young man veiled in black.

“His face is completely covered. Even if I knew him, I wouldn’t recognize him like this,” Xia Wanqing replied.

“Which side do you think will win?”

“In terms of sheer strength right now, it has to be the Breaking Dawn God-Dynasty,” Xu Zimo answered.

“First, the Star River God-Dynasty’s side is short one fighter, while that black-robed youth’s identity remains unknown. If it comes down to a best of three, where will Star River God-Dynasty find their third?”

“What about those princes?” Xia Wanqing asked.

“They? Nothing more than mongrels and stray chickens,” Xu Zimo shook his head.

He looked over the princes, pitifully weak.

Perhaps impressive to ordinary cultivators, but in this competition, utterly worthless.

Then his gaze returned to the black-robed youth.

The youth seemed to sense it and smiled at him.

Even though his face was covered, Xu Zimo could still feel the smile.

Xiao Buhui turned to King Star-River and King Breaking-Dawn.

“Where will you hold the contest?” he asked.

“Beside this Mystic Realm,” King Star-River said.

His expression was sour, after all, they were missing one fighter.

Leaning toward Jade Cauldron True Immortal, he muttered: “Tell my sons to quickly choose one among themselves. If they lose this contest, they can forget about ever becoming crown prince.”

Jade Cauldron True Immortal nodded slightly and withdrew.

King Star-River smoothed his expression. Stretching out his hand, he flung a streak of black light into the air.

At the same time, King Breaking-Dawn also raised his hand, sending out a streak of white light.

In an instant, black and white brilliance intertwined in the sky.

The heavens roared with thunder.

The two lights flared, covering the void.

As the radiance merged, a battle platform slowly descended from the void.

No one knew what material it was made of, half black, half white.

The two halves divided cleanly, and an ancient aura encircled it.

The crowd around faintly heard the clash of armies, warhorses screaming, and chaos raging.

It was as if tens of thousands were locked in battle right before them.

But in the blink of an eye, the vision faded, leaving only the battle platform.

“This is…” Xu Zimo chuckled. “…one formidable stage.”

“Long ago, a Desolate Battlefield appeared nearby. The Breaking Dawn God-Dynasty and the Star River God-Dynasty both entered to explore. In the struggle, they discovered this battle platform. In the conflict over it, the platform split into two halves, one came to King Star-River, the other to King Breaking-Dawn.”

“Desolate Battlefield,” Xu Zimo murmured.

“Desolate Battlefields are places left behind after great wars, some large-scale, some small. But the true nature of those battles is almost never known,” Xia Wanqing explained.

“Don’t underestimate these stages. Not only are they indestructible, but training upon them can condense one’s battle will.”

The platform was a thousand meters long, spreading wide. The crowd floated into the air to view it clearly.

“Then let’s begin. Who will fight the first round?” Xiao Buhui asked.

“Draw lots,” King Star-River said.

If they didn’t, letting someone go first would be unfair.

Whoever went second would have time to adjust and prepare.

“No need. My Breaking Dawn God-Dynasty fears no one,” King Breaking-Dawn waved his hand, smiling. “We’ll simply crush them with strength. We’ll send someone first, giving King Star-River time to respond.”

“We also fear no one,” King Star-River replied coolly.

“Xie Shitian, you’ll go first,” King Breaking-Dawn commanded.

The youth named Xie Shitian gave a slight nod.

His face was pale, not the pallor of the void, but a sickly white.

Clad in cyan robes, he walked slowly onto the platform.

“Which of you will face me?” his eyes swept over Sikong Ji and Wu Dao.

“Can you win?” King Star-River asked Sikong Ji.

If Sikong Ji could defeat Xie Shitian, then Wu Dao, ranked third on the Heroes Ranking, would have a strong chance of defeating Xuan Yi.

If that happened, with two wins, they wouldn’t even need a third fighter.

The only real concern was Sikong Ji.

He was only seventh on the Heroes Ranking.

King Star-River had no choice. The top ten were hard to recruit; some were as elusive as dragons.

Managing to bring in Sikong Ji was already their limit.

Xuan Yi had originally been their third fighter, but his betrayal had left King Star-River reeling.

And now there was no time to find another.

“I’ll give it a try,” Sikong Ji said.

In truth, he wasn’t confident. His opponent was ranked two places above him.

According to the rules of the Heroes Ranking, he could only challenge the sixth first.

Sikong Ji stepped onto the platform, drawing a sword from his back.

The blade flared with gray light.

At the same moment, Sikong Ji’s eyes turned gray.

“The Heartless Sword, Sikong Ji,” Xia Wanqing murmured. “They say he cultivates the Heartless Sword, using heartlessness as his Dao, erasing his joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.”

“Then what’s the difference between him and a machine?” Xu Zimo remarked.

As they spoke, the battle began.

Sikong Ji lifted his sword and struck. Sword qi surged around him, ruthlessness enveloping the entire stage.

Opposite him, Xie Shitian erupted with wicked energy.

He wielded no weapon, but his hands flowed with gray energy.

“Three Purities Heartless Sword!” Sikong Ji shouted coldly.

His blade split into countless afterimages, tearing through the void.

It was as though he wielded not a sword but a rolling, merciless river.

Each strike carried endless ruthless intent.

“Nine Nether Soul-Severing Palm!”

Xie Shitian’s right hand swept forth, gray energy swirling. It transformed into a skeletal hand.

The bone palm was twice the size of a normal hand.

It seemed to embody the Nine Netherworlds, haunted by wailing souls and surging red rivers.

Illusory shadows appeared around Xie Shitian, encircling Sikong Ji.

Sikong Ji’s expression grew grave. His sword spun, and he spun with it.

But in that instant, Xie Shitian vanished.

Before Sikong Ji could react, ghostly hands burst from beneath the stage.

They seized his right leg and yanked him down hard.

“Sikong Ji is about to lose,” Xia Wanqing said.

“Let’s see if he has a trump card,” Xu Zimo yawned, looking bored.

Nearby, the Second Prince seemed to say something to Xiao Buhui and his companions.

Xiao Buhui’s gaze shifted toward Xia Wanqing.

Finding the battle dull, he slowly walked over to them.

“Martial Heaven Sacred Ground?” he asked, looking at Xia Wanqing and the Sixth Elder.