As the preliminary round drew near, the whole of Fu Mountain Square swiftly fell silent.
The earlier clamor seemed to have been abruptly strangled by an invisible hand. Even the whistle of wind past the flagpoles could be heard clearly.
The spectating disciples held their breath, their gazes turning as one toward the open ground beside the arena and settling on the six or seven hundred disciples about to embark on the preliminary round. Their eyes were full of anticipation and tension.
Amid the crowd.
Su Qingyue stood in an inconspicuous corner, looking past the throng of heads with her gaze fixed on Yang Jing, her expression a tangle of emotions.
She recalled their first meeting, then his subsequent meteoric progress, and a jumble of feelings stirred within her.
Not far away.
Liu Rou, Lin Wenxuan, Jia Yuliang, and the others stood together, their eyes likewise fixed on Yang Jing, their expressions filled with wistful wonder.
When Yang Jing had first joined the Profound Truth Sect, everything about him had seemed so ordinary apart from his reasonably good looks. His family background, root bone, connections, and resources had all been unremarkable.
Yet in a mere half year, that newly arrived disciple had risen to a height they could scarcely reach even by looking up. Such talent and progress truly commanded admiration.
At the very front of the spectators.
Steward Zheng stood with his arms folded across his chest, his sharp gaze sweeping over the contestants on the open ground. Beside him stood Wang Zhonglei, Lingxi Peak's Qi-Nourishing Realm steward.
Watching the seventy-odd disciples from Lingxi Peak, Wang Zhonglei could not help remarking, "The Fu Mountain Grand Competition is far fiercer than the Azure Qilin Battle. I wonder whether Yan Chenglong, Fang He, and Yang Jing can make the