On the arena, Chen Qing took a deep breath and slowly walked down from the Seven Stars Platform.
"Senior Brother!"
Qu He was the first to come forward, his eyes filled with excitement and admiration.
Pei Tingchun followed close behind. He raised a hand and pressed down through the air, sending a stream of True Origin into Chen Qing's body to help settle his surging qi and blood.
"Well done."
Pei Tingchun's voice was not loud, yet it carried the long-awaited exhilaration of holding one's head high at last.
The surrounding crowd surged forward like a tide, then retreated slightly, leaving behind an empty space.
Huo Qiushui, Ruan Lingxiu, Meng Qianxue, and the other true disciples, along with many Diheng Seat elders, stepped forward one after another to offer congratulations.
Chen Qing's aura had gradually steadied. He clasped his fists and looked around, his voice calm. "I only won by half a move through sheer luck. Thank you all for your concern."
His gaze briefly met that of Zhong Yu and the others from the Nine Heavens Vein in the distance. Their expressions were complicated, and they looked away.
Over at the Xuan Yang lineage, Luo Chengxuan and the others looked as dark as water. Gongyang Ming had already hurried away with Ji Yunliang to treat his injuries.
Pei Tingchun clasped his fists toward the people around them and said loudly, "Everyone, this battle has ended. Nephew-Disciple Chen needs to regulate his breathing and recover. I hope you can grant him this convenience and allow him to rest for a while."
The many elders and peak stewards who had intended to come forward and strike up conversation or offer congratulations tactfully stopped in their tracks. After returning the salute, they scattered in twos and threes.
Only after the crowd had