Amid fevered battles, time passed in a flash, and at last the grand finals arrived at their climax. Through days of fierce contest, three teams with both strength and luck achieved victory and stood on the final stage.
This result surprised few. Last year's champions, Grand Martial Academy, once more swept all before them and entered the finals undefeated. Spirit Hall Academy, thanks to its deep foundation and the brilliance of the Golden Generation, emerged unstoppable. And Star Lou Royal Academy, led by Tang San, now a Level 61 Soul Emperor, also overcame countless hurdles to once more reach the main arena.
At this moment, the stands on all sides were crowded, the air thick with excitement, tension, and anticipation.
Countless gazes fixed on the distant Pope's Palace, the seat of the highest authority in Spirit Hall. Sunlight glinted off its golden roof, dazzling, as the heavy doors rumbled open. Figures emerged one by one into sunlight, stepping onto the broad terrace before the hall and looking down below.
The two figures at the front both wore splendid scarlet robes—garb only those among Spirit Hall's elders who held Titled Douluo ranks, both in strength and status, were permitted to wear. This symbolized not only overwhelming force but also supreme authority in Spirit Hall's core decision-making.
Standing to the left was a tall, straight figure, face strikingly beautiful, long golden hair gleaming in the sun. It was none other than Qian Renxue. As the young miss of Spirit Hall and the esteemed Judgement Elder, it was only fitting for her to wear red.
On the right, a man donned a purple robe beneath his red mantle. His expression was resolute yet calm—it was Chen Yi. He too wore a Titled Douluo's red robe, an honor conferred by Spirit Hall following his undisputed victory over the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan leader, Yu Yuanzhen.
Immediately behind them came Chrysanthemum Douluo Yue Guan and Ghost Douluo Gui Mei, both also clad in scarlet. Yue Guan radiated a feminine, eerie aura, while Gui Mei projected a cold, shadowy presence. Their combined power only offset and highlighted the extraordinary standing of Qian Renxue and Chen Yi.
The four stood atop the high stairway before the Pope's Palace, surveying the vast crowd and the three finalist teams arrayed below.
Clear and cold, yet charged with soul power, Qian Renxue's voice carried across the plaza:
"Pope His Majesty is in seclusion for cultivation. I will serve as Master of Ceremonies for this year's All-Continent Advanced Spirit Master Academy Finals."
This pronouncement stirred a brief commotion but died down quickly—reclusion among the powerful was common knowledge, and it was perfectly logical for such an esteemed elder to preside over the games.
"Greetings, Judgement Elder!"
"Greetings, Honored Elders!"
The teams' leaders, their members, and most attending soul masters and nobles bowed deeply in perfect unison.
Even Grand Martial Academy's students, who were on especially friendly terms with Qian Renxue, bowed their heads out of respect for the strong.
Yet amid this united salute was one glaring exception. The Star Lou Royal Academy team split into two.
Led by eldest son Dai Weisi and accompanied by Zhu Zhuyun and several others, one group bowed with perfect grace. The other, led by Tang San, Dai Mubai, and Zhu Zhuqing, remained standing with cold, solemn expressions. Tang San even tipped his chin up, his eyes indifferent—verging on provocative—as if the words of Qian Renxue and the greetings of the crowd meant nothing to him.
In a moment, nearly everyone's attention was drawn to Tang San's group. The atmosphere grew heavy and awkward.
Dawn Douluo, tasked with maintaining order, was enraged. As a Level 95 Titled Douluo, his savage aura surged toward Tang San and his cohort like a volcanic eruption.
"Insolent! You dare not kneel or bow when meeting the Judgement Elder? Do you possess no sense of hierarchy?"
A terrifying pressure pressed down like a tidal force, and Tang San bore the brunt. He struggled to breathe, his face pale—Dawn Douluo's oppressive aura was not something Tang San's current level could withstand easily.
But Tang San knew he had powerful backing, steeled himself, and maintained an odd sense of self-assurance. He met Dawn's furious gaze and replied steadily:
"I have never heard of a law, either of the mainland or of Star Lou Empire, requiring one to bow to Spirit Hall elders."
"At least, there is no such rule in the Star Lou Empire," he continued, voice neither humble nor arrogant, eyes fixed not on Dawn Douluo but on Qian Renxue and Chen Yi above.
"You court death!" Dawn Douluo's eyes flashed savagely. "You, a mere Soul Emperor, a remnant of that dark Clear Sky Sect, dare spout such nonsense and disrespect Spirit Hall authority!?"
Spirit power boiled as he prepared to lash out.
But Qian Renxue, standing above, gently lifted a hand. With just that slight motion, Dawn Douluo's momentum was instantly restrained, his anger suppressed by an invisible force. He stepped back, bowing his head obediently.
Qian Renxue's gaze fell coldly on Tang San. "Indeed," she said coolly, "there is no such statute."
Tang San felt a hint of relief, even a passing note of satisfaction. It seemed that Qian Renxue was rather reasonable; in so public a venue, she understood not to abuse Spirit Hall's power. So long as there was no law to invoke, they could do nothing to him.
But before that smugness could settle, Qian Renxue's tone sharpened, ice in her voice echoing across the assembly:
"But—"
"Who gave you the courage to confront the powerful without respect?"
"And who gave you the right to display that laughable, pathetic arrogance before me?"
Before she finished, Qian Renxue took a step forward.
Buzz—!
A blazing golden radiance erupted from her body. Around her feet spun two purple soul rings, five black, and then a final red ring—ten radiant, holy rings enveloping her like an aureole.
When that blood-red, one-hundred-thousand-year soul ring manifested, the crowd collectively drew breath in awe.
Behind her, an angelic phantom ten meters tall, with six golden wings and a divine sword, shone with boundless holy light—a vision of supreme sanctity.
Soul Douluo! And with a one-hundred-thousand-year soul ring...!
The entire arena fell silent. The sheer force and chilling majesty of her spirit rings robbed everyone of words. She was not yet even twenty-five, yet already stood at the pinnacle, shattering all prior records.
Her golden eyes narrowed on Tang San as she raised a hand. The next instant, a terrifying holy pressure crashed down upon him.
Puff!
In a heartbeat, five standing members of his group turned pale, blood spurting from their mouths. As if struck by giant hammers, their knees hit the ground with painful thuds—forced into kneeling.
Observing from the shadows, Bo Saixi's ocean-blue eyes gleamed fiercely. As the Sea God's heir, how could Tang San accept such humiliation? She raised her hand to intervene, but in an instant, three equally powerful auras locked onto her, freezing her hand in midair.
Bo Saixi's pupils contracted as she stared toward the palace.
"Qian Daoliu... You...?!"
Awe flooded her. The aura of Qian Daoliu was clearly already beyond the boundary of Level 99, into the realm of demi-god—a half-step towards true godhood.
How… How could this be?!
As a divine servant, Bo Saixi knew the rules: neither Qian Daoliu nor she could break beyond Level 99 in the human world...
Yet Qian Daoliu had already taken that crucial half-step, all for Qian Renxue.
Was he truly willing to risk breaking with her, all for his granddaughter?
Her attention shifted back to the plaza, to Tang San—kneeling, bloodied—and then to the faint golden mark glittering on Qian Renxue's brow, a sign left by the ultimate god's trial...
She slowly drew back her hand and shrank the sea's divine flows around her, eyes shimmering with complex emotion.
"Tang San, you must endure, for now..." she murmured to herself.
Tang San, meanwhile, was suffering both physically and spiritually. He frantically activated the Mysterious Heaven Skill to resist, but the gap was too large. Between a Soul Emperor and Soul Douluo—particularly a Soul Douluo with a one-hundred-thousand-year soul ring and a divine martial soul—the gulf was uncrossable.
It was even worse that, despite his great hopes, Bo Saixi did not act for him.
"Bo Saixi! Old woman! Are you going to just watch me die? Have you chosen death for yourself as well?" Tang San wailed mentally, digging his nails into his palms until blood poured out.
From above, Qian Renxue looked down, her golden eyes cold, indifferent. Tang San struggled, his face twisted with rage, yet pressed lower inch by inch by her pressure.
"Let this be remembered," her icy voice echoed throughout the arena. "Those who insult His Excellency will pay the price. But since you are finalists, your lives are spared during the games. Should this ever happen again—no matter who—it will mean execution!"
With a thought, the terrible pressure receded like the tide.
"Haa... haah... haah..." Tang San and his companions collapsed to the ground, gasping, foreheads drenched in cold sweat, shock etched in their eyes as they realized how close to death they had come.
Dai Mubai and the others were so shaken they could not look up at the dais. Now, they truly grasped how close they were to dying in this very moment. Tang San kept his head down, fists clenched, blood dripping from his palms as all around he felt the mocking and contemptuous stares—every look felt like a needle stabbing his flesh.
He would remember this humiliation!
Qian Renxue, meanwhile, treated them all as though brushing away an annoying fly.
"Come up and draw lots," she commanded.
With a sidelong glance at the battered Tang San and his party, Dai Weisi saw how humiliating it would be for them to step forward, sighed inwardly, straightened himself, and lightly approached the podium.
The draw was swiftly completed: the first match would be a solo knockout tournament between Star Lou Royal Academy and Spirit Hall Academy.
"Tang San," Dai Weisi pleaded in a low voice. "This first fight is crucial for the empire's honor. I know you must be shaken but—"
Before he could finish, Tang San, still with lowered head, croaked: "We forfeit."
"What?!"
Dai Weisi stared at Tang San as if he'd heard nonsense, his eyes widening in disbelief. Zhu Zhuyun and the others were similarly aghast, their faces turning angry.
"Tang San!" Dai Weisi's voice was furious. "Do you understand what you're saying? This is the finals! We represent the Star Lou Empire! Even if we lose, even if we must die, warriors of Star Lou never surrender. It is shameful!"
Tang San slowly raised his head. Though his face was still pale, his eyes were cold and stubborn. He glanced at Dai Weisi, his tone calm but tinged with underlying urgency.
"I'm injured. I need time to recover for this afternoon's crucial battle. There's no point fighting now."
The reputation of the empire? What did that matter to him? In his heart, there was only calculation... and resentment.
Dai Mubai, stepping forward with a cold snort, interrupted Dai Weisi. "Dai Weisi, I am the captain! We forfeit this match!"
Watching the little drama playing out among the Star Lou ranks, Chen Yi, on the platform above, shook his head, eyes full of subtle mockery.
"So, this Tang San really is the true disciple of his teacher—selfish, arrogant, and utterly unsuited for any grand cause."
He lost interest in Star Lou's infighting, turning to Qian Renxue, his voice ringing out over the arena.
"In that case, the host side will reap the advantage. We'll await you at Grand Martial Academy this afternoon."
With that, he nodded to Qian Renxue, turned, and departed into the Pope's Palace, his scarlet robe tracing a beautiful arc in the morning light.
Qian Renxue gave the demoralized Star Lou team below a cold glance, sneered, and left with Chrysanthemum and Ghost Douluo at her side.
Her intentions were clear: this afternoon at Grand Martial Academy, Star Lou would face either a real match or surrender.
Whether Star Lou fought or surrendered, or whether Grand Martial Academy's reputation for unbroken victory would be dented, she cared not at all.
All she wanted was to defeat Tang San and his team completely—in the eyes of all.
Spectators exchanged puzzled glances; many could not help but twitch their lips.
So the rumors about those from the Body Sect are right—they truly are an odd bunch!
Although almost guaranteed victory, they now had to fight through the losers' bracket to chase down their rivals.
Given Grand Martial Academy's overwhelming strength, their actions, unreasonable as they were, didn't provoke disgust—in fact, they made many feel:
"This is how the strong should carry themselves."
Both teams entered the losers' bracket—one crushing all with unstoppable might, the other a chaotic mess, becoming the laughingstock.
Such, truly, is reputation!