As time passed, the number of competitors eliminated from the arena continued to climb.
The tightly packed squares surrounding Yang Jing had mostly fallen silent.
The air above countless squares stood empty, with no more arrows falling into them, leaving only a cold stillness.
This meant that every competitor in those squares had accumulated too much white powder on their robes, ending their Jintai Grand Tournament journey in the first preliminary round.
The vast stretch of arena that had just resounded with voices and crisscrossing arrows now lay empty in great swaths.
Many young martial artists stood dejectedly in their squares, their expressions forlorn, their eyes filled with regret, unable to conceal their disappointment and resentment at losing.
Fang He, Ma Qiang, Yan Chenglong, and the other recently eliminated disciples of the Profound Truth Sect stood among those silent squares.
Under the rules of the Jintai Grand Tournament, once the preliminary round began, it proceeded without interruption and would not pause for individual eliminations.
Even after losing their eligibility, eliminated competitors were forbidden to leave the arena on their own. They had to remain quietly in their original squares until the trial ended.
The disciples stood still, composed themselves, and turned their gazes toward the figure nearby who remained calm throughout.
Watching Yang Jing amid the furious rain of arrows, they felt an indescribable shock surge through them, shaking them to their very cores.
They cultivated together in the Profound Truth Sect and saw one another daily, so naturally they knew how powerful Yang Jing was. They also knew that his breakthrough to the true qi realm had made him the foremost member of their sect's younger generation, his strength far surpassing that of ordinary fellow disciples like themselves.
They had long accepted the reports of his heaven-defying talent and