Morning sunlight flooded the grand outer arena as thousands of spectators filled every tiered stone bench around the perimeter. Proctors adjusted their wooden clipboards while senior instructors and inner court observers took their seats in the elevated pavilion. They had gathered in massive numbers, drawn by wild rumors of the humble commoner who had miraculously survived the opening round through sheer, inexplicable fortune.
Ye Chen stepped through the rusted iron archway into the gravel ring, his plain iron sword resting securely in its boiled leather scabbard across his back. His external aura remained pinned firmly at Body Tempering Stage 5 behind the dark violet bands of the Crystalline Shackle. Every step he took projected the image of an ordinary laborer who was entirely out of hi
