Below the arena, Yang Jing stood shoulder to shoulder with the disciples of Lingxi Peak, quietly waiting for the final to begin.
Sunlight fell across his shoulders, lending a brighter sheen to his fitted black martial attire. He stood tall and straight as a sturdy pine, exuding composure.
Beside him, Fang He, Yan Chenglong, Lin Ziheng, and the others were nowhere near as calm. They huddled together, speaking in low voices filled with barely concealed tension, excitement, and a touch of apprehension.
"Do you think Senior Brother Yang can win this time? Chu Yunhai is first on the Hidden Dragon Ranking!" Zhao Xuxiang clenched his fists, his voice trembling slightly.
Lin Ziheng knitted his brows and considered for a moment. "Hard to say, but you've seen Senior Brother Yang's strength yourself. Maybe he can pull off a miracle!"
Zhang Hengyi nodded repeatedly beside them, his eyes shining with anticipation. Their discussion was quiet, but every word revealed how deeply they cared about this final.
Listening to the murmurs around him, Yang Jing's expression remained unruffled.
The closer the final drew, the calmer his heart became, like an ancient well without a single ripple.
The more excited and nervous everyone else grew, the more composed he became. The internal qi within him flowed slowly in harmony with that state of mind, becoming increasingly condensed.
In truth, when news of the Fu Mountain Grand Competition first spread and Yang Jing learned of its generous rewards, his only goal had been to make the top three.
At the time, he had not even brought his Indestructible True Art into the qi-devouring realm. Against the exceptional geniuses on the Hidden Dragon Ranking, who had immersed themselves in the Martial Path for years, he had little confidence that he could even reach the top three.