Time passed.
Before anyone realized it, the matches had reached their end.
"Last battle, Number 15 versus Number 15!"
A ripple spread through the plaza.
'It's my turn.' Wang Xiaohu straightened his chest.
However, the moment Wang Xiaohu entered the arena and saw his opponent, his body stiffened.
It seems like he was both lucky and unlucky.
He is lucky because his opponent's cultivation base was also at the Fifth Stage of Qi Refining, equal to his own.
But he is also unlucky because the person standing across from him was a member of the Zhao Family.
The Zhao Family was renowned throughout Blueleaf Town for their body refinement techniques, particularly their signature art— Crimson Forge Body Art.
As such, most Zhao members cultivated flesh and bone alongside spiritual energy, turning their bodies into weapons.
Just a while ago, Zhao Wenjie had ended his match with a single punch.
Although his higher cultivation base had played a role, no one doubted that his terrifying physical strength was equally responsible.
As murmurs of sympathy rose from the crowd, Wang Dazhu suddenly snorted, "So what if his opponent is from the Zhao Family? My family's body refinement technique isn't inferior to their Crimson Forge Body Art!"
He clenched his fist and shouted, "Xiaohu! Show them what you've got!"
Han Xuan couldn't help but chuckle. He said leisurely, "Brother Wang, are you trying to let the Zhao Family know that you possess a body refinement technique superior to theirs?"
He paused, then added with a faint smile, "If so, you should prepare yourself to be invited to become their guest elder."
Wang Dazhu's expression changed instantly.
His mouth snapped shut.
Only then did he realize that the Three Great Families were birds of a feather.
"…Brother Han is right," Wang Dazhu muttered, wiping at sweat that didn't exist, "I almost got myself into trouble just like you."
"…" Han Xuan fell silent. He thought, 'I was kindly reminding you. Why did you have to reopen my wound?
Inside the arena, the two youths faced each other.
They cupped their fists.
"Wang Xiaohu," Wang Xiaohu said loudly, "Fifth Stage of Qi Refining."
The Zhao Family youth smiled faintly, his posture relaxed and confident, "Zhao Wenhan. Fifth Stage of Qi Refining."
The name alone drew a few murmurs.
Zhao Wenhan was not an unknown figure.
"The match begins!" The gray-robed old man announced.
The moment his voice fell, Zhao Wenhan moved.
He didn't draw a weapon.
Instead, he stomped forward heavily, each step cracking the stone beneath his feet. His fist shot out like a battering ram, air exploding with a dull boom.
Wang Xiaohu hurriedly raised his arms to block.
Bang!
The impact sent him skidding backward several steps, his arms aching violently.
'So strong…!' Wang Xiaohu was shocked.
Zhao Wenhan pressed forward relentlessly, fists and elbows crashing down like iron hammers. Wang Xiaohu was forced on the defensive, barely managing to parry each blow.
"This is the difference," Zhao Wenhan said calmly, his voice filled with certainty, "My body has already been integrated with a high-grade spiritual weapon."
As he spoke, faint crimson patterns surfaced across his skin, glowing like heated metal.
"My flesh and bones are now as tough as a high-grade spiritual weapon itself." He sneered slightly, "I heard you also practice body refinement. But compared to mine, it's nothing."
Another punch slammed down, forcing Wang Xiaohu to stagger again.
"Give up now," Zhao Wenhan said coldly. "Your struggle is meaningless."
Wang Xiaohu wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and snorted, "Meaningless?"
His breathing slowed.
Then, his aura suddenly changed.
A violent, feral presence surged outward.
Muscles swelled beneath his skin as coarse, dark fur spread across his arms and shoulders. His pupils sharpened, turning golden, while a pair of half-formed wings unfurled from his back. Striped markings crawled across his body like living scars.
A winged tiger silhouette emerged.
The crowd gasped.
Zhao Wenhan's expression finally shifted.
Wang Xiaohu straightened, his posture no longer defensive but predatory. He growled, "So what if your body's integrated with a high-grade spiritual weapon?"
He clenched his transformed fist, the air distorting around it.
"My body has fused with a high-grade demon beast." A savage grin spread across Wang Xiaohu's face, "Let's see, whose body is stronger?"
The battle entered a new phase.
On the sidelines, Han Xuan glanced at Wang Dazhu and asked quietly, "Did your son also practice the Thousand Beasts Tempering Body Art?"
As far as he knew, Wang Dazhu himself cultivated that very technique.
The Thousand Beasts Tempering Body Art was a powerful body refinement technique that allowed its practitioner to devour demon beast flesh, blood, and bones, gradually refining their body while retaining certain traits or even abilities of those beasts.
Its only drawback was a fatal one.
It burned spirit coins like water.
High-quality demon beast materials were notoriously expensive, and the stronger the demon beast, the higher the cost. Without sufficient resources, the body refinement technique was nothing more than an empty dream.
In fact, most body refinement techniques were like this—painful to cultivate and demanding absurd amounts of resources. That was why very few cultivators were willing to walk this path.
Only wealthy, deeply rooted families like the Zhao Family could afford to nurture body refinement cultivators on a large scale.
Wang Dazhu, however, was different.
He was a casual cultivator.
To sustain his cultivation, he worked as a chef at Spirit Aroma Pavilion, a restaurant renowned for serving various spiritual dishes made from demon beast ingredients.
Using his position, Wang Dazhu carefully collected leftover demon beast meat, bones, and blood that would otherwise be discarded. Bit by bit, he accumulated what he needed to cultivate the Thousand Beasts Tempering Body Art.
When particularly valuable ingredients were involved, he was even bold enough to consume the remnants of customers' dishes in the back kitchen.
In terms of squeezing value out of opportunity, Wang Dazhu had truly taken it to the extreme.
Hearing Han Xuan's question, Wang Dazhu chuckled dryly, "Of course. If I didn't pass it to him, wouldn't all that suffering of mine be wasted?"
His gaze returned to the arena, where Wang Xiaohu's body still bore the faint outline of beastly features.
"With his talent," Wang Dazhu said softly, "Maybe he can walk farther than I ever could."
Han Xuan nodded, a faint sigh escaping him. His gaze lingered on the arena as he said with quiet melancholy, "Indeed. We old fathers have limited talent. In the end, we can only entrust our unfulfilled dreams to the next generation."
"Don't worry, Father. Uncle Wang."
Han Qixing, who had been listening intently, suddenly raised his fist, his small face filled with determination, and said, "Brother Wang and I will enter a sect and bring honor to you."
Han Xuan's expression softened. He smiled and gently patted his son's head.
Wang Dazhu let out a long sigh, "If only my boy could join a sect… then I won't have to worry so much about his cultivation resources in the future."
As they spoke, the situation in the arena shifted.
Wang Xiaohu, who had been suppressed moments ago, suddenly let out a deep roar.
The sound was sharp and piercing, like a thunderous cry that tore through the air.
A sonic wave burst forth, rippling visibly across the arena.
It was the innate ability of the Black-Winged Tiger—the very demon beast whose essence Wang Xiaohu had once devoured.
Zhao Wenhan's expression changed drastically. His body stiffened as the shockwave smashed into him, disrupting his circulation and rattling his internal organs.
Seizing the opening, Wang Xiaohu charged forward without hesitation.
His muscles bulged as he twisted his waist and threw a ferocious punch straight ahead.
Bang!
The fist landed squarely on Zhao Wenhan's chest.
"Gah!" Zhao Wenhan was sent flying backward like a broken sack, his body bouncing across the arena before crashing heavily onto the ground.
By the time he stopped rolling, his eyes had already rolled back—unconscious.
Moments later, the battle was decided.
The crowd erupted into uproar as Wang Xiaohu stood tall in the arena, breathing heavily but victorious.
The gray-robed old man stepped forward once more, his gaze sweeping across the arena.
"The winner of this match is Wang Xiaohu."
Only then did the subdued murmurs fully erupt.
Wang Xiaohu let out a long breath and stepped down from the arena, his body still aching from the fierce exchange.
As soon as he returned to the spectators' area, Wang Dazhu hurried forward. He urged, pressing two pills into his son's palm, "Sit, sit, this is a Rejuvenation Pill and a Spirit Recovery Pill. Don't be stingy, swallow them."
Wang Xiaohu nodded obediently and took the pills, his complexion gradually recovering as spiritual energy circulated through his meridians.
In the arena, the gray-robed old man raised his hand, suppressing the noise. He announced calmly, "The first round of battles has concluded. Fifteen participants have passed and will proceed to the next stage."
At once, many expressions shifted—relief, excitement, and lingering tension intertwined.
After a brief pause, the old man continued, his tone turning heavier.
"Based on overall performance in the first round, combat awareness, efficiency, spell mastery, and decisiveness, five participants have distinguished themselves and will directly obtain the sect recruitment spots."
The plaza fell into near silence.
Every participant held their breath.
The moment everyone had been waiting for… had finally arrived.