"Zhang Qiao wins!"
Ling Yu's cool, calm voice echoed through Cave Heaven. Zhang Qiao was already swaying as he leaned on the Wave-Covering Ruler. The moment he heard he had won, he finally relaxed and crumpled like a heap of mud.
He lay in the mud of the battlefield, where spiritual energy was in chaos, primal forces lay shattered, and traces of spells still lingered everywhere. Yet Zhang Qiao could not help bursting into laughter. "Hahahaha! Hahahahahaha!"
"I won!"
Master Chen watched Zhang Qiao laugh with such abandon, overcome with emotion. How many trials and hardships had Zhang Qiao endured to reach this point? From the young master of a teetering Golden Core Realm lineage, to an obscure, unremarkable Penglai disciple, to the top Nascent Soul Realm combatant in Penglai and a candidate for True Disciple—no one knew how long Zhang Qiao had struggled through it all.
Even Master Chen, who had seen so much of the world, witnessed warmth and coldness alike, and grown accustomed to intrigue, could not help feeling happy for Zhang Qiao. "Yes. You won."
"You're guaranteed a place in the overall top ten—no, the top three!"
"Zhang Qiao, you fought your way to the top!"
In the vast, ring-shaped crater, Zhang Qiao lay in the mud and gazed at the azure sky. Even knowing it was false, he felt utterly exhilarated. From the son of a small Golden Core Realm lineage in the East Sea's Huansha Archipelago to a candidate for Penglai's True Disciple, he had spent three hundred years parting the clouds and mist. At last, the world had seen his edge.
"Zhang Qiao!"
"Zhang Qiao!"
"Zhang Qiao!"
On the viewing platform, countless Nascent Soul Realm disciples called Zhang Qiao's name. Their voices were so loud they pierced layer upon layer of Restrictive Wards,