The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a harsh light over the massive arena, illuminating the three platforms where hundreds of outer disciples gathered. The tension in the air was thick, a heady mix of excitement and anxiety. Every disciple knew that this was their chance—an opportunity to shine, to stand out, and to gain favor from the inner disciples, overseers, or even the elders themselves.

Xing Wuye stood among the crowd on one of the three platforms, his heart pounding in his chest. He scanned the competitors around him, each one wearing expressions ranging from determination to outright arrogance. It was clear that no one intended to hold back. He tightened his fists, reminding himself of his goal: stay in as long as possible, avoid unnecessary conflicts, and try to survive the brutality of the melee.

With a resounding gong, the royales officially began. Chaos immediately erupted across the three platforms, turning them into violent arenas. Fists flew, kicks were thrown, and cultivators unleashed bursts of Qi in every direction. The platforms became a writhing mass of bodies and raw power, each contestant struggling to stay on their feet while simultaneously trying to knock others off.

Wuye moved cautiously, weaving between groups of fighting disciples, dodging out of the way whenever things got too intense. He had no intention of throwing himself into the middle of the carnage. His focus was on endurance, not showing off.

On one of the other platforms, Bai Feng stood out like a shining star. His every move was filled with overwhelming power and precision. Wielding his spear with practiced ease, he sent disciples flying off the platform with devastating strikes. His body was surrounded by a faint aura of wind, the telltale sign of his mastery over his Qi, allowing him to move like a tempest on the battlefield. Every time his spear lashed out, it was as if a storm had descended upon his opponents. It was no surprise to anyone that Bai Feng was dominating his arena.

Li Zhang, too, was making waves in his own bracket. His movements were swift, his fists packing an enormous amount of force. His opponents found it difficult to even land a hit on him as he danced around them, utilizing the techniques he had taught Xing Wuye just weeks before. Each strike he delivered seemed calculated, a perfect balance of strength and efficiency. He stood like a tiger in his arena, powerful and patient, waiting for the perfect moments to strike.

But while these powerhouses shone brightly, Xing Wuye remained in the background, blending into the chaos. He ducked under a high kick, dodged a burst of Qi, and stepped back as two disciples engaged in a fierce battle in front of him. His focus was survival, not glory. He kept to the edges of the fighting, his senses heightened, feeling every shift in the air, every dangerous intent that got too close.

His body moved instinctively, thanks to the months of training under the waterfall and the techniques Li Zhang had passed down. He wasn't the strongest, but his agility and reflexes had sharpened to the point where he could avoid most incoming attacks with relative ease.

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However, things grew more dangerous as the numbers thinned. As the brawls whittled down to fewer and fewer contestants, Wuye noticed two disciples eying him from across the platform. They had likely noticed his lack of aggression and assumed he was an easy target.

"They must think I'm the weakest," Wuye thought, his heart racing as they began to advance on him.

Both disciples charged at him simultaneously, their Qi flaring as they aimed to knock him out of the competition. Wuye's breath quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. He wasn't the same boy from the fishing village anymore. He had trained for this. He had learned to trust his instincts.

As they closed in, Wuye activated his mobility technique, "Wind Stride" and moved with a speed that surprised even him. He ducked low, sliding past the first disciple's punch, and swiftly rolled to the side to avoid the second disciple's follow-up kick. His heart pounded in his chest, but a strange sense of exhilaration filled him. For the first time, he could feel the rhythm of battle, the ebb and flow of Qi, the intentions of his enemies.

The first disciple growled in frustration and lunged at him again, but Wuye sidestepped him easily, grabbing the man's wrist in a fluid motion and using his momentum to flip him over. The disciple hit the ground hard and slid to the edge of the platform. Before he could recover, Wuye delivered a swift kick, sending him over the edge.

One down.

The second disciple snarled and came at Wuye with a barrage of punches, but Wuye was quicker. His movements were a blur as he dodged left and right, narrowly avoiding each attack. He felt alive in a way he hadn't before, his senses fully attuned to the flow of the battle. He could predict where the punches were coming from before they even landed. He was so focused on dodging that he didn't even notice another disciple approaching.

Out of nowhere, Wuye was blindsided by a powerful blow to his side. He was sent flying toward the edge of the platform, his body spinning in mid-air from the force of the attack. As he struggled to regain his balance, he caught a glimpse of the disciple who had struck him—a tall, muscular youth with a cocky smirk on his face. It was clear this disciple had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Wuye crashed onto the ground just shy of the edge, his body aching from the impact. Before he could recover, the disciple approached him again, this time aiming to finish him off. Wuye tried to rise to his feet, but the disciple was too fast. A powerful kick sent him tumbling over the edge, out of the competition.

As he fell off the platform, Wuye felt a brief moment of disappointment, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of satisfaction. He had made it to the final ten. He had survived longer than most, and for someone who had only recently entered the Upstream stage, that was no small feat.

Outside the ring, Wuye humbly calmed himself, watching the rest of the battles unfold. His heart still raced from the excitement of the melee, but a small smile crept onto his face. He had learned so much in such a short time, and now he was even more determined to improve.

From his vantage point, he watched as the final rounds continued on the other platforms. Bai Feng was as fierce as ever, his spear a whirlwind of destruction, though even he was eventually eliminated, finishing in fourth place in his bracket. Li Zhang, on the other hand, had managed to reach second place in his arena, only to be bested by a disciple wielding a sword who seemed to have mastered the art of Qi-infused blade techniques.

As the dust settled and the final contestants were decided, Wuye felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Mei Ling standing behind him, a soft smile on her face.

"I didn't qualify," she admitted, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Wuye smiled at her, his heart warming at the sight of his friend. "You did well. Not everyone can make it, but there's always next time. Besides, just participating in this gives us a chance to learn."

Mei Ling nodded, her eyes brightening slightly. "Thanks. I'll do better next time. What about you? You made it to the final round, right?"

"Barely," Wuye chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I'm glad I did. It's been a good experience."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the final matches wound down. Despite his elimination, Wuye couldn't help but feel excited. The tournament was just the beginning.