Host 1

He tried a few more times.

Lin Sheng quickly grasped the secret behind it.

The Sanctuary Gray Seal did not just provide him with simple skin defense; it offered an overall enhancement in strength.

His skin, muscles, and bones were all being comprehensively improved.

This was why, no matter what actions he performed—whether striking a tree or stabbing himself with a blade—he never suffered any bone contusions.

After training for a while, the day was growing late.

Lin Sheng packed his things, shouldered his schoolbag, and headed back.

Upon returning home, it seemed his father's business had improved significantly lately, and there were many more smiles on his face.

His mother's salary had also returned to normal, and the household income was much better than before.

Lin Sheng felt a sense of relief as well.

In his dreams, he had not left the Valen Temple for several consecutive days, choosing instead to focus on meditating on the Gray Seal.

Moving forward, he intended to continue this meditation. According to his calculations, the defensive boost provided by the Gray Seal surely had a limit.

Otherwise, the Valen Temple would have been invincible long ago; they wouldn't need to recruit ordinary temple knights. They could simply produce a few more knights capable of comprehending the Gray Seal to dominate Black Feather City.

Time passed day by day.

Finally, the official fencing tournament began.

April 13th.

Huaisha City Gymnasium, Third Indoor Arena.

Inside the bustling stadium, more than half of the floor was empty. Only in the corner to the right were many long, gray mats laid out.

The mats were arranged in a circle.

In the center of the circle was a square platform. The platform was surrounded by wire mesh, and the floor was covered with dark red wooden planks. Several staff members in yellow uniforms were moving about, checking the conditions.

Lin Sheng and Russell walked in front, with Xiayin and Madilan following behind.

The group followed their guide, walking along the edge of the stadium.

The person leading the way was a staff member organizing this qualifying tournament—a middle-aged, bald man in a gray suit named Li Heng.

"The venue is just a rented portion of this gymnasium. Since there aren't many participants in Huaisha City, I hope everyone will forgive the modest accommodations.

If everything goes smoothly, we expect to finish the qualifying tournament by this morning."

He spoke with a beaming smile, radiating a friendly air; he was clearly the type of peacemaker who tried not to offend anyone.

He then began to explain the rules and precautions for the tournament.

Russell walked beside Lin Sheng, looking left and right, when suddenly his eyes lit up. He pointed toward the distance.

"Look over there! It's the other participants!"

Lin Sheng raised his eyes and looked in the direction he was pointing.

On the opposite side of the gymnasium floor, another group of people was being led into the arena by staff.

Chen Huan was among them. Beside her was the mature woman who had registered Lin Sheng, Xu Yi, and behind them were several young people who appeared to be ordinary students.

Chen Huan wore a tight-fitting white protective suit, her long hair in a ponytail. She looked heroic and beautiful, holding a helmet in her hand with a cold expression.

Lin Sheng's gaze swept past her and quickly shifted to another team further back.

Following behind Chen Huan was another team of participants led by staff.

The team consisted of only two people, who appeared to be siblings. Both were blonde with blue eyes, their builds long and powerful.

The man among them stood tall and straight, wearing a protective suit and holding a straight sword without a crossguard.

Lin Sheng narrowed his eyes, sensing that the man did not seem weak.

From the fragments of memory he had absorbed from the elite Rotten Swordsman, he had learned certain methods for evaluating opponents.

From their gait, mannerisms, alertness, and so on, one could roughly determine the combat level of an opponent.

It seems there are experts in reality as well. Lin Sheng felt a slight sense of vigilance.

Soon, the staff led each team to the mats around the arena, where they sat on the floor.

A banner was unfurled on the second-floor railing nearby, which read: "Warmly Celebrating the Official Opening of the 7th National Amateur Fencing Tournament, Huaisha City Division."

After Lin Sheng and the others sat down, Chen Huan and her group soon took their places on a nearby mat.

There were ten teams in total, all sitting on the floor around the competition platform. It was easy to see the others.

Chen Huan glared fiercely at Lin Sheng for a while, her eyes practically bulging out.

But after a moment, her gaze shifted away, fixing instead on the blonde man, her posture that of someone facing a formidable enemy.

Lin Sheng sat cross-legged, his long sword standing upright beside his leg.

"What is that man's name?" He pointed toward the blonde man with the indifferent expression.

Russell shifted his body beside him and whispered.

"Sears Kami. A local wealthy businessman who just loves playing this. When you weren't here, Master Lin, it was him and Chen Huan fighting for first and second place."

Lin Sheng nodded, signaling his understanding.

The blonde youth, Sears, seemed to notice his gaze, turning his head to flash a friendly smile at him.

Lin Sheng nodded slightly with an expressionless face, a polite enough response.

Soon, the host stepped onto the stage to adjust the sound system. A deafening blast of music began to play.

"I am very pleased to be here on this bright and sunny day, in the largest Third Gymnasium in Huaisha City, to hold our seventh National Amateur Fencing Tournament."

What followed was a long stretch of nonsense thanking the sponsors.

"There aren't even a few dozen people in the audience; this qualifying round is useless," Russell muttered from the side.

"It's not bad to get a medal to show off and bluff people," Lin Sheng said with a smile.

After a heap of drivel, the so-called fencing qualifying rounds began.

There were ten teams in total; they first drew lots to randomly determine their one-on-one opponents. The winners advanced, and the losers were eliminated.

There were no fancy tricks in the qualifying rounds; if you lost, you were out. There were no second chances.

On Lin Sheng's side, Xiayin went up to draw lots with the other teams.

She looked at the number she pulled: five.

"The fifth match, neither good nor bad. It just depends on who the opponent is," Xiayin whispered.

The opponent was the team that had also drawn number five.

"Next, I invite the first pair of contestants to the stage. The first to be struck three times loses. Anyone unable to continue resisting also loses," the host announced loudly into the microphone.

Lin Sheng sat below, watching as two men walked up the steps on either side of the wooden platform and stood in a standoff.

The referee stepped onto the stage and stood between the two.

Clang.

A gong sounded.

The referee made a chopping motion between the two, signaling the start.

Both men immediately assumed the Roof Stance.

However, the difference was that one held his longsword vertically by his ear, while the other held his high above his head.

The Roof Stance was the most common and popular posture because it was very convenient for downward slashes.

But Lin Sheng glanced at their footwork and immediately shook his head slightly.

One of the men's steps was unsteady and weak, while the other was actually standing in a standard pigeon-toed stance. Both were using a parallel stance, meaning their feet were on the same horizontal line.

With such a stance, combined with their lack of stability, they would fall at a single push; they had absolutely no resistance to impact.

"Teacher, how are these two?" Madilan leaned in from behind and whispered.

Lin Sheng didn't speak, merely shaking his head.

As expected.

Both men let out wild shouts, raised their swords, and delivered a fierce slash at their opponent.

Thwack.

The taller one, having longer reach, struck first and won. His opponent fell to the ground, injured.

The outcome was decided.

They were practically wild boars!

Sparse applause rang out from the surrounding crowd.

The winner soon stepped down, and the second match began.

Once again, the one with the longer reach won.