"Thwip!" In the sky, a figure descended like a black iron tower, emitting a sharp rushing sound as his feet heavily struck the ground. Instantly, the specially crafted black floor beneath him subtly cracked, revealing fine fissures. At the very moment he landed, dozens of competitors on the field clearly felt the ground tremble, turning to gaze in astonishment at the figure. As their eyes settled on him, they began to understand. Li Qinggung, the one who radiated such commanding strength and raw power—perhaps no one else in the inner courtyard possessed it. Upon landing, his body remained perfectly straight, as rigid as a spear shaft, with no slight bend. The long black heavy spear slung diagonally over his back seemed to radiate a solid, weighty presence. After landing, Liu Qing suddenly raised his head, directing his gaze toward a specific spot on the elevated platform. In his gaze burned an intense, fiery determination—precisely where it landed, stood Lin Xiu'ya, exactly as everyone had expected. The audience's attention followed Liu Qing's line of sight, ultimately settling on Lin Xiu'ya, absorbing the sharp, intense rivalry between the two. Each spectator harbored deep anticipation, eager to see which of the two true elite contenders would emerge victorious. For the gaze of the entire arena, Lin Xiu'ya offered a gentle smile, bowed slightly to Xiao Yan who was not far away, and then, with a tap of his foot against the ground, his body moved like a leaf drifting effortlessly, swiftly stepping out of the platform. A pale blue gust of wind formed beneath his feet, and as he walked, each footfall seemed to land on a tangible, invisible staircase. The scene appeared remarkably as though he were gliding without touching the ground at all—immediately drawing a wave of astonishment from the crowd. They all knew that even the strongest Dueling Kings had to rely on their aura wings to remain aloft; to achieve such a seemingly effortless, weightless movement as if walking on solid ground without any apparent support required at least the strength of a Dueling Emperor. Gazing at Lin Xiu'ya's display, even the elders on the high platform nodded slightly. With their keen eyes, they could clearly see that Lin Xiu'ya was not truly moving with effortless grace—he was instead creating intangible stepping points beneath his feet by channeling wind-based qi, a technique that could not last indefinitely. Yet, even so, the level of precise control required was remarkable, and for Lin Xiu'ya's current standing, achieving this feat was truly astonishing. Under the collective astonishment of the audience, Lin Xiu'ya slowly descended through the air, gently setting his feet upon the ground, then stood with his arms folded. His posture was elegant and poised. At this moment, many female students already had stars sparkling in their eyes. "Hmph..." Just as everyone was still enchanted by Lin Xiu'ya's earlier ethereal step, a faint, deep rumble of thunder suddenly echoed through the air. Some people quickly looked up, but after a brief flash of silver light passing through their pupils, they found nothing else. When they glanced around in confusion, a few more observant ones noticed a new figure in black robes had appeared in the midst of the crowd. "Xiao Yan? He's moving so fast!" Now that Xiao Yan's appearance was well known among all the inner courtyard students, and his signature, the Xuangzhong Scale, had clearly identified him, a steady stream of quiet astonishment rippled through the group. Xiao Yan's entrance was not as solemn or grand as that of the two preceding figures, yet to those truly capable observers, it was no less impressive than that of Liu Qing and Lin Xiu'ya. Indeed, that speed—how remarkably swift it truly was—was nothing short of astonishing. In the arena, only a few of the others—Liu Qing, Lin Xiu'ya, and a few others—turned their heads, fixing their gaze upon the quiet, composed young man in black robes. A subtle, barely perceptible sense of cautious apprehension flickered in their eyes. Even they had to acknowledge the significance of this speed; indeed, aside from a handful of individuals, many questioned whether, even at their peak, they could match it. "Given this young man's speed, it's likely hard to find many among the Dou Ling tier who can rival him. His movements still seem somewhat unrefined—perhaps he's only just beginning. One can only wonder what kind of formidable presence he'll achieve when he reaches his full potential," remarked Hao, the elder who had a particularly close relationship with Xiao Yan, stroking his beard with genuine admiration. "He must have a highly refined body technique—otherwise, he wouldn't achieve such results." One elder nodded, subtly catching on to something. Su Qian, the senior elder, stood calmly, his mind flashing back to the thunderous sound he had heard earlier, which, though not entirely unfamiliar to him, had been somewhat unexpected. After a moment, as if it suddenly came to him, his eyes narrowed slightly, murmuring with growing astonishment, "How does this young one know such a technique? This is the Wind and Thunder Pavilion's secret art—should those others discover its origin, they'll surely be after him for quite some time." If Xiao Yan had known that Su Qian had immediately recognized the origin of his technique, he would surely have been amazed at the elder's sharp discernment. On the stage, not long after Xiao Yan and his two companions entered, a small girl dressed in white slowly climbed the stairs, then made her way to the front of the line, amid countless stunned gazes. She seemed to be chewing something steadily, glancing here and there, and when she caught sight of Xiao Yan, she broke into a cheerful smile, revealing her charming, neat little虎teeth. As whispers spread across the stands, several contestants in the arena grew noticeably uneasy—besides those who had recently climbed onto the strength leaderboard—the majority of them briefly showed signs of fear, and their reactions left the audience at the venue puzzled. As for the gazes of those around, Zi Yan simply didn’t care, her mouth constantly chewing on the pill pills crafted by Xiao Yan. She radiated a relaxed demeanor, showing not the slightest sense of urgency as the grand tournament approached. Two years ago, there had indeed been a few competitors within the inner courtyard who could match her. But now, those strong contenders had all graduated and moved on. With time passing, Zi Yan had remained the longest-standing student in the courtyard—though, admittedly, she was rather unusual in her ways. Thus, with Zi Yan’s nearly obsessive strength, even figures like Liu Qing would find it difficult to stand a chance. This young girl had now become an extraordinary presence on the strength rankings. "Cough!" A soft cough, carrying the essence of combat energy, resonated in the ears of every attendee, instantly causing whispers to fade. After a brief moment, they completely subsided. One by one, people lifted their gazes toward the black-robed elder at the center of the dais, their eyes filled with reverence and respect. As the foremost elder in the inner academy—second only to the enigmatic headmaster—this elder commanded respect not only from other elders but also from the students themselves. Hearing Su Qian's words, some contestants nodded slightly, while most remained reserved—after all, to make it into the top ten, who wouldn't give their all? Under full effort, control of power often faltered, and surprises were inevitable. As his gaze swept across the faces of the competitors, Su Qian shook his head in resignation. The atmosphere within the inner courtyard had grown increasingly fierce; once timid newcomers, unfamiliar with combat, had now matured into seasoned warriors—like fierce wolves of the grasslands. It was now more difficult than ever to temper their natural aggression. "There are twenty-five blue-bottomed slips and twenty-five red-bottomed slips, each numbered from one to twenty-five. For instance, if you draw the blue-bottomed slip numbered twelve, your opponent will be the holder of the red-bottomed slip numbered twelve." Su Qian briefly explained the drawing rules, which were not particularly complex, so even first-time participants quickly understood. "Alright, let's begin drawing!" One by one, the contestants proceeded to the stone platform, drew bamboo slips, announced their numbers aloud, and then stepped back. Xiao Yan did not immediately rush to draw his sign. Standing still, he suddenly furrowed his brows slightly, tilted his head slightly, and cast a glance toward the back—just in time to catch a pair of venomous stares. It was Bai Cheng, the one who had previously lost to him. Now, the way he looked at Xiao Yan suggested he still harbored resentment, and within that resentment there was also a touch of defiance. Perhaps, like many outside, he believed his defeat stemmed solely from the Dragon Power Pill that Xiao Yan had used. When Xiao Yan locked eyes with him, Bai Cheng's face trembled slightly. He sneered, then took a steady step forward, reaching the stone platform, where he searched around before finally selecting a bamboo stick with a red base. With a dull voice, he declared, "Red base, fifteen." After finishing, he stepped back, maintaining his sharp, hostile gaze on Xiao Yan, silently cursing beneath his breath, "May he draw the very same bamboo stick as Liu Qing!" Amidst Bai Cheng's curse, Xiao Yan finally moved slowly toward the stone platform, drawing a red-bottomed scroll at random. His eyes swept over it, first startled, then a faint amused expression appeared on his lips. "Red bottom... fifteen," Xiao Yan chuckled softly, lifting his gaze to see Bai Cheng's face—his cold smile suddenly stiffening.