Excluding the Yin Shi, the enemy has four fighters while our side has three—fewer in number, but superior in quality. With the Tianxia Guihuo already eliminated, all that remains is to defeat either Qingsongzi or Yinchi. Once one of them falls, our victory will be secured. Yinchi's spiritual servant is vulnerable to our and Sun Miaomiao's counterattacks, and his "sound wave" assaults are neutralized by the Land God's helmet. As long as we break his chest armor, he will be eliminated. Qingsongzi, on the other hand, excels in close combat, is agile, possesses exceptional stamina, and wields the sword inherited from Tianxia Guihuo—making him significantly more difficult to handle than Yinchi. However, Zhang Yuanqing believes we should prioritize eliminating Qingsongzi, since only Qingsongzi and Yuan Ting currently have reporting capabilities on the field. (Note 1) Thinking from the enemy's perspective, they will undoubtedly make every effort to eliminate the Land God, who currently holds only one point of points, using the most cost-effective reporting method. Yuan Ting has already been won over. As long as Qing Songzi is eliminated, the Land God will be safe within half an hour—enough time to conclude the battle. After weighing the pros and cons, Zhang Yuanqing stepped back, raised his hand to cover his mouth, and spoke softly: "Sun Miaomiao, hold Yuan Ting and Zhao Chenghuang in place. Land God, keep the one who can't sing occupied—ideally, eliminate him. I'll go handle Qing Songzi." Dividing the battlefield and tackling opponents one by one is the optimal strategy. Recalling the scene when the world was unified by fire and one blade shattered the weapons of Yuan Shi Tianzun, Sun Miaomiao glanced at Qing Songzi's narrow-bladed long sword and furrowed her brows, murmuring: "Can you manage it? I have to tell you—I won't be able to hold Zhao Chenghuang for long." The Land God also cast a questioning glance. As an eighth-seed contender, Qing Songzi is no easy target—though certainly not on par with Yuan Shi Tianzun, he is a nimble, agile wood spirit wielding a weapon capable of splitting hairs, which significantly enhances Yet Sun Miaomiao couldn’t afford to delay much. Although Yuan Shi Tian Zun might defeat Qing Songzi, it would be very difficult for him to eliminate the latter swiftly through sheer force. Neither Sun Miaomiao nor the Land God believed he could manage it. “One minute. Within one minute, I’ll eliminate Qing Songzi,” Zhang Yuanqing pressed a hand to his mouth, preventing the opponent from deciphering their conversation through lip movements. One minute… The Land God and Sun Miaomiao raised their brows. Yuan Shi Tian Zun’s words radiated an unparalleled confidence—had he not given his full effort in the past several matches? That seemed impossible. As both were taken aback, Zhang Yuanqing’s body vanished from view before everyone’s eyes, while his Yin Shi Wáng Zhě No. 1 surged forward toward Qing Songzi. My target? Qing Songzi stiffened, lifting his blade as he retreated, shouting, “Attack!” At the same time, a surge of intense anger surged within Qing Songzi. Was Yuan Shi Tian Zun treating him like a soft target? Did he feel disrespected? The musically inept immediately raised his bamboo flute and blew into it, emitting a mournful, piercing melody. The waves of sound, sharp as steel needles, pierced the ears and brains of the assembled crowd, delivering a soul-shaking pain. At the extraordinary stage, musicians possess three skills: soothing, inspiring, and hypnotizing. Yet the musically inept made no use of any of these. His flute could only play one piece—a melody that directly harmed the spiritual essence, intensifying the damage when layered with the musician's own sonic attacks. Even the renowned 3rd-level Night Wandering God, famed for his resilient spiritual body, could not endure it. There was no need to employ any of the musician’s specialized skills. Thud! Thud! The ground beneath the musically inept suddenly rose, dark brown soil coalescing into two massive hands that grasped his ankles. The land spirit, clad in leather garments, knelt and surged forward, galloping like a swift, determined steed, leaving all others far behind. He regarded himself as a battering ram, charging with unrelenting force and unwavering determination, completely disregarding the soul-impacting waves of sound that had no effect Seeing this, the music suddenly became urgent, and two faint, indistinct figures emerged from the bamboo flute—one graceful in posture, the other broad-shouldered and sturdy. The two music attendants burst forth, weaving past each other, rushing toward the Land God. Though their sonic attacks proved ineffective, the essence of the attendants was ethereal; their ability to manifest as physical forms interfered with their bodies, not their souls—this was a capability that the helmet could not withstand. Headlong, the two attendants plunged into the Land God’s body, vying for control of his form. The Land God’s powerful charge halted abruptly, and he stiffened, remaining motionless. With a deep breath, he exhaled forcefully, drawing his chest and abdomen inward, and the cigar clenched between his teeth glowed bright red. "Hoo!" he exhaled, sending a thick, dense mist toward the music-aphasic several meters away—not white mist, but a rich, substantial vapor. The mist enveloped the music-aphasic, who had been immobilized, cutting off the flute’s melody and replacing it with sharp, labored coughing. He was poisoned. On the other side, Qingsongzi quickly calculated in his mind. The musician, protected by a breastplate, could withstand defense but struggled in offense; the Earth God, though strong in defense, was weak in attack—thus, the battle would remain evenly matched for now. He then turned his gaze toward Zhao Chenghuang and observed that the two Night-Wanderers kept charging and retreating, often returning to their original positions. Near them, Sun Miao-miao’s eyes were dark with strain, with a sleeping-dress ghost standing behind her, desperately maintaining the illusion. Remarkably, Sun Miao-miao had managed to simultaneously hold both Zhao Chenghuang and Yuan Ting—indeed, a true strength of the third-ranked contender. Yet, she could not sustain this for long against two fellow disciples. Observing the situation, Qingsongzi knew exactly what he needed to do. He would delay the battle. Once Yuan Ting and Zhao Chenghuang broke free and entered the fray, he would face them in numbers, turning the tide. A patch of green sprouted beneath Qingsongzi’s feet and rapidly spread, forming a circular lawn with him at its center, spanning eight meters in diameter. The principle behind this maneuver was similar to scattering flour Effectively prevents attacks from the Night Wanderer. The grass remains flat; Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun has not arrived... His shadow body stands by, observing, not advancing... Qing Song Zi remains calm. Just now, the clumsy flute melody disrupted Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun's offensive rhythm. Now that the melody has ceased, why hasn't he launched an attack? Not attacking is good—delaying time benefits our side. This thought just surfaces, and suddenly, black smoke rises from Qing Song Zi's face. His rationality swiftly collapses under negative emotions. He clutches his head, writhing in agony, eyes blazing red, like a madman, like a wild beast. Crackle... Crackle... The shadow bodies outside the grass begin to move, charging furiously into the lush, circular area, muscles rippling as they run—like a hunting leopard. Suddenly, Qing Song Zi clutches his head with one hand, while with the other he reaches into his inventory, pulling out a small wooden figure, three inches tall. The wooden figure's head emits black smoke, hissing continuously, the smoke growing denser, while the black smoke from Qing Song Zi's face gradually fades. Crackle! The wooden figure cracked. The black smoke from Qing Songzi's face dissipated, and his senses returned. Gazing at the spectral corpse now mere steps away, Qing Songzi smiled coldly. When the Yuan Shi Tian Zun first confronted the Miao Shan sect priests, he had employed this very tactic—according to Qing Songzi's assessment, it was one of the Yuan Shi Tian Zun's signature strengths, superior to most other methods and exceptionally hard to defend against. Therefore, Qing Songzi had prepared a consumable specifically to counter this tactic, drawn from the traditions of the Wuzhu (divination and pestilence) specialist class. Among the lawful (lawful order) professions, only high-level Water Ghosts and high-level Night Wandering Deities can break curses and contamination; scouts count as half, yet none of these are consumables capable of the extraordinary stage. He had never encountered or been able to use the consumables of the Saint's Realm. After much thought, he decided to adopt the strategy of borrowing the enemy's strength to defeat them. Thus, he secured this consumable through connections with the senior elders of the division—named the "Stand-in Puppet." When the user is struck by impurity, decay, or curse Qingsongzi casually tossed aside the splintered puppet, then stepped forward with his narrow-mouthed long knife, charging straight at the shadow corpse. He aimed to catch Yuanshish Tianzun off guard. He intended to rely on the sharpness of his armor and weapons to shatter Yuanshish Tianzun's shadow form. He seemed to see Yuanshish Tianzun's pained yet furious expression. While rushing at high speed, Qingsongzi used the agility of a climber, suddenly shifting his center of gravity, turning in a direction that defied the laws of physics to evade the shadow corpse's straight punch. With a creak—twisting his ankle, rotating his body so that his side faced the shadow corpse, Qingsongzi roared, thrusting his narrow-mouthed long knife with the sharpness of the weapon and the extraordinary strength of a wood spirit. A single slash severed the shadow form. "Pffft!" The tip of the blade struck a hazy, translucent veil, which dimpled under the impact and seemed poised to rupture, yet ultimately held firm. This shadow corpse possessed the defensive qualities of a soil spirit—Qingsongzi's face grew pale with alarm. At that moment, he noticed young Yuanshi Tianzun's assault arrived. At the same time, the shadow corpse beside him roared like a wild beast, lunging forward with a sudden surge. With the physical prowess of Wángzhě No. 1, even a nimble wooden spirit would struggle to retreat gracefully. Qingsongzi did not retreat; he calmly drew his sword, then grasped a sturdy wooden stick in his left hand. The rigid stick suddenly softened, spiraling and coiling into a solid wooden shield. "Thud!" Qingsongzi raised the shield, bent his torso, and lowered his hips, deflecting the shadow corpse's powerful punch. His gaze remained fixed on the steadily advancing footprints. As they reached his body, the arm holding his narrow-bladed sword tensed, muscles bulging. The sword swept across, slicing through the air with a sharp, piercing sound. He was confident this strike would drive back Yuanshi Tianzun—during their past several battles, Yuanshi Tianzun had never employed defensive tools. Should Yuanshi Tianzun insist on trading blows, Qingsongzi was not afraid either. The Night-Wanderer possessed strong vitality and solid self-recovery abilities, but he could not match the healing power "Pfft…" The blade struck something, yet encountered no resistance—neither solid nor tangible, more like it had pierced water. In the next instant, Qing Songzi saw the splashes of water, saw the form of Yuan Shi Tian Zun emerge as he was attacked. He wore a long robe of deep indigo, with crimson flames embroidered at the hem and sleeves, and silver waves at his chest. Ignoring the sweeping motion of the long blade, the night-wandering deity drove his forty-centimeter-long willow-blade straight into Qing Songzi's chest. The water spirit's abilities—he possessed the equipment of a water spirit—brought sharp pain, distorting Qing Songzi's face. He kicked Yuan Shi Tian Zun aside, parried two punches from the yin corpse, then discarded his narrow-bladed sword, retreating swiftly. Even with his heart pierced, his movements remained agile and fluid, like a monkey skilled in climbing. Blood flowed steadily from Qing Songzi's chest, gathering in green light to attempt healing, yet he pushed himself to his limit, only slowing the flow. The bleeding function of the blood-thirsty blade counteracted the healing capabilities of the wood spirit. I haven't lost yet—I still have one chance for a "revival," which will activate when I reach near-death status. In the meantime, I'll rely on my agility to dodge attacks from the Primordial Immortal and the Yin Corpse, holding out until the revival triggers. Qing Songzi remains calm under pressure, swiftly formulating a strategy. He also discards his narrow, long sword—it's too heavy and would hinder his agility in this situation. Now, his agility is the only asset he has. Suddenly, two dull thuds resonate against his back, and cracks appear in his shoulder blades as he stumbles forward. Attacked? Surprised and furious, he turns around to see a pair of fresh, elegant red dance shoes standing several meters behind him, rising and falling in a strange, rhythmic motion—like an invisible figure wearing them, stepping in place. A Night-Wanderer's item? The red dance shoes appear both eerie and unsettling. Qing Songzi's face contorts again. A thought surges through him: Why does he still have items? How could he have so many props! "Tap, tap, tap..." The Red Slippers rushed in with hurried steps. Qingsongzi unfurled his entwined wooden shield, transforming it into a long whip, and with a swift arm motion, "crack!" the whip snapped out, striking the Red Slippers. The two props collided in midair—neither impeded the other, as if they existed in separate spaces. Intangible? That can't be right. If intangible, how did it just kick me earlier? Qingsongzi sidestepped, rolling out of the way of the Red Slippers' foot press to his chest. After tumbling to the ground, Qingsongzi continued rolling. With two solid thuds, the ground beneath him left behind a series of craters. Zhang Yuanqing coordinated with the Red Slippers, delivering a well-linked series of attacks—though they missed the agile wooden spirit—keeping Qingsongzi constantly on the defensive. Just as Qingsongzi rose to his feet, a pair of fists appeared before him. He slightly tilted his head, narrowly avoiding a punch, only to be struck with sharp chest pain as the red dance shoes pressed upon his wound. Qing Songzi's vision darkened, and his consciousness suddenly faded. Under successive blows, the resilient wood spirit, finally exhausted, entered a state of near-death. The very next moment, a powerful vitality surged forth from his weakened body, as if a parched and cracked field welcomed a fresh flow of water. His mind cleared, and he felt strength radiating through every limb. I've been revived! Qing Songzi's face brightened with exhilaration. Then, he heard the spiritual realm's notification: 【Ping! You have died. You have been eliminated!】 In his final vision, he saw blood gushing from his neck, with Yuan Shi Tian Zun standing firm, bathed in the flowing crimson. Qing Songzi's body dissolved into a radiant light. The second contestant was eliminated. Under Yuan Shi Tian Zun's relentless pursuit, this wood spirit wielding a sharp weapon held out for less than a minute before being eliminated. The land god far off stops his "beating" of the tone-deaf one, looking utterly surprised: "You didn't even reach a minute—how did you hide your strength all this time?" Sun Miao Miao suddenly turns around, just in time to witness Qing Songzi's form dissipating. How strong... Sun Miao Miao's confidence and pride, once solid among the top three, are now shaken. Until now, she had firmly believed herself stronger than Yuan Shi Tian Zun; now, she only sees a truly dangerous competitor. "That would mean Master Yuan Shi, even in a tournament setting, is certainly capable of reaching the top three." "Not quite that dramatic—yes, he's showing some reserve, but only a little. Those dancing shoes and robe don't appear especially outstanding; they're more like refined, high-quality props. Such refined props aren't enough to threaten the top three contenders.