Three days had passed in the blink of an eye.


    The much-anticipated Genius Martial Tournament, which had captured the attention of the entire town, officially kicked off today by the banks of the Yunjiang River.


    Though Han and his companions wouldn’t be participating, they still made their way to the event, eager to watch the disciples from various factions compete.


    The Yun family was no different. Yun Duo and other young members of the clan rushed out excitedly, joining Han and his group at the sidelines.


    “Han, why aren’t any of you taking part in this selection?” Yun Duo asked curiously. “Don’t you want to go to Yujing?”


    “We could go to Yujing anytime we pleased,” Han replied with a light smile. “It’s just that we don’t care to get there this way.”


    When the time came for their names to resound across the land, they would stride into Yujing with pride and dignity, earning respect on their own terms—no need to lean on anyone else’s support.


    As for why the Yun family had also declined to join, Han didn’t need to ask. He already knew.


    Yun Duo nodded in agreement. “Fair point. With your talent and strength, you don’t need some imperial envoy’s favor. Wherever you go—any sect or school—you’d be valued.”


    Beside them, Yun Yun’s heart stirred. Han’s exceptional talent and peerless strength within his realm were unlike anything she’d ever witnessed. If they could somehow bring him into the Yun family, it would be a boon beyond measure. But the Yun family wasn’t a sect—it was a clan. What could they offer to entice someone like him?


    Unless…


    Yun Yun stole a glance at Yun Duo. Too bad her little sister was still so young, naive, and carefree—unversed in the ways of the world. Otherwise, it’d be a simple matter. Beyond her sister, though, the clan had no one else of note. The distant cousins weren’t remotely on Han’s level in status or potential.


    As Yun Yun’s thoughts wandered, Yun Duo struck up a lively chat with Shen Yu. The two girls, close in age—one innocent, the other spirited—hit it off quickly, giggling and bonding with ease.


    The atmosphere among their group was warm and relaxed, but onlookers couldn’t help shaking their heads.


    “Tai Bai Martial Hall and the Yun family—they’re letting a golden opportunity slip through their fingers and don’t even realize it,” someone remarked, gesturing grandly as if delivering a sage judgment.


    “Becoming a disciple under the Emperor’s banner—what an incredible chance, what an honor! It’s leagues better than staying here in Heiyun Town.”


    “Exactly,” another chimed in. “Han from Tai Bai and Bai Ruoyue have talent far beyond the norm. If they went to Yujing and received proper training, their achievements could be limitless. But now? They’ve made a terrible choice, veering onto the wrong path and squandering their gifts.”


    “Give it a few years after our Heiyun prodigies follow Lord Zuo to Yujing. Han and Bai Ruoyue will be overtaken by people who couldn’t hold a candle to them before.”


    “Such a shame, truly.”


    Comments like these spilled from more than one mouth, each speaker wearing an expression of pity.


    Some secretly reveled in Han’s perceived misstep, smirking inwardly. What fools, they thought. They don’t know how to seize an opportunity—wasting their talent for nothing.


    Han’s cultivation was profound, and his sharp senses caught every snide word. But when he traced the voices to their sources, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Most of the naysayers were mere Flesh Realm martial artists, lamenting the “tragedy” of geniuses like him and Bai Ruoyue—who were already at the Sinew and Viscera Realms.


    Never mind Han and Bai Ruoyue—just Shen Long and the others could likely reach Bone Refinement on their own someday. Meanwhile, these critics would count themselves lucky to ever touch the Sinew Realm. Yet here they were, pontificating from on high.


    It was almost comical.


    Han had no intention of stooping to argue with Flesh Realm nobodies. Let them talk.


    The rest of his group paid the chatter no mind either. Shen Yu, who might’ve cared, was too busy enjoying her new friendship with Yun Duo.


    Soon, Zuo Tianzheng arrived with representatives from various factions. Their eyes flickered toward Han and his companions, but they offered no greetings—just a passing glance.


    Zuo Tianzheng launched into a grand speech, praising Emperor Qi, extolling the court, and waxing poetic about his noble intentions. With that, the Genius Martial Tournament officially began.


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    There were no fancy arenas or platforms. The earth itself served as their battlefield.


    The opening rounds pitted rogue cultivators against each other, while disciples from families and martial halls faced off in separate matches. Flesh Realm fought Flesh Realm, Viscera Realm fought Viscera Realm—no mixing allowed. Bone Refinement martial artists wouldn’t deign to compete, given their status.


    Once each realm produced a handful of victors, they’d face off to determine the ultimate winners. According to the notices posted by Zuo Tianzheng’s men, there wouldn’t be just one champion. The top performers in each realm’s contests stood a chance at selection.


    Later that evening, a bout between cultivators was scheduled. Tomorrow, Zuo Tianzheng would unveil the Lingxiu Chapter from the Taoist and Martial Scriptures to test their comprehension. After all three trials—combat, cultivation, and insight—he’d weigh each participant’s performance and choose a select few.


    He didn’t promise every faction a spot, but he did guarantee that each realm would have at least one representative. In truth, rogue cultivators had no real shot—the gap between them and the family or martial hall disciples was simply too vast. At least in Heiyun Town, no rogue cultivator could bridge that divide.


    The matches moved swiftly, with multiple contests unfolding at once. For fighters of this level, strength gaps were glaringly obvious. No epic, three-day stalemates here.


    Not just anyone could sign up—you had to prove your worth. Otherwise, if every random hopeful joined, the event would drag on forever.


    Han barely spared a glance for the Flesh and Sinew Realm bouts. His focus was on the Viscera Realm clashes between the various factions. But after watching for a bit, he shook his head.


    Slow. Far too slow.


    Weak. Far too weak.


    The young Viscera Realm novices were riddled with openings in Han’s eyes—every move sloppy and predictable. It wasn’t that their skills were unpolished; the gulf between them and Han was just too wide.


    When power and speed reached a point of absolute dominance, even the cleverest techniques crumbled into flaws.


    Han didn’t even need to tap into his full might—his mastery at the peak of the Viscera Realm was enough to crush these fledglings effortlessly.


    He shifted his gaze to the older Viscera Realm fighters. Some had reached minor or even major mastery, but their age showed. In Heiyun Town, few broke into the Viscera Realm before twenty. Even core disciples from major factions typically hit it at twenty-one or twenty-two. Reaching peak Viscera? That could take years more.


    Still, time lent them certain advantages. Long years of practice had honed their martial techniques to a decent level.


    That’s what Han zeroed in on now.


    “That Viscera Realm master from the Mad Blade Hall—his physique is average, but his Mad Blade style is impressive,” Han mused. “One slash flows into the next, relentless, and his momentum builds with every strike. If you don’t stop him early or break his rhythm, no ordinary martial artist could withstand his final blow. The power of presence.”


    “And that Lin family spearman—his style’s both bold and defensive, with a touch of finesse… Ah, I see it now.”


    “The Gao family…”


    Han scanned the battlefields, his eyes lighting up at flashes of ingenuity. He mulled over them silently.


    These techniques weren’t high-tier by his standards, but every martial art created by living beings evolved from humble roots to greater heights. Watching these veterans, who’d spent decades mastering their craft, revealed subtleties Han hadn’t noticed before.


    This was a different kind of martial cultivation—one born of accumulation, a broadening of perspective, a refinement of insight. You either grasped it yourself or learned it from others.


    And now, just by observing, Han felt a spark of understanding. He’d gained something.


    If Lu Qingmo were here, she’d surely be stunned again. You can just… pick this up by watching? Something’s off about you.


    As Han absorbed the battles around him, the Seven Orifices Exquisite Heart within him pulsed a little faster. A faint murmur of sutra chanting echoed faintly around it—inaudible to outsiders.


    Han was engrossed, and Zhang Yuantao and the others left him be, enjoying the fights themselves. They couldn’t glean insights like Han, but for Heiyun’s standards, the matches were thrilling enough. These were, after all, the rivals Shen Long and the others had faced in the past.


    The crowd of onlookers gasped and cheered, marveling at this or that fighter’s prowess.


    To Bai Ruoyue, though, it was all rather dull. Her strength now rivaled an unscathed Bone Refinement martial artist—no longer limited to a few exchanges like before. In her eyes, Heiyun’s heroes boiled down to just two: herself and her little junior brother.


    The rest? Hardly worth a mention.


    Seeing Han so absorbed, Bai Ruoyue frowned inwardly. With his skill, not one of these fighters could hope to match him. Why was he so invested?


    Hmph, foolish Senior Sister. How could you understand the brilliance of your little junior brother? My martial foundation, my vision, my techniques—they’re soaring right now.


    The tournament began at dawn and wrapped up before lunchtime. As expected, the final victors all hailed from families or martial halls—not a single rogue cultivator made the cut.


    Across the three realms, some boasted perfect records. In the Viscera Realm, there were even multiple standouts, split into age-based brackets due to the significant gaps between sub-levels and the time required to advance.


    With the winners decided, Zuo Tianzheng stepped forward again, lavishing praise on the victors and name-dropping a few other notable talents beyond the undefeated. They’d have a shot at joining him in Yujing after all three trials.


    He then offered earnest words of encouragement to the defeated, softening their disappointment.


    As the crowd began to disperse, a voice suddenly rang out: “Tai Bai Han! Do you dare spar with me?”


    Han, already turning to leave, paused and glanced back.


    The speaker was Duan Jin, a disciple from the Tenglong Martial Hall who’d gone undefeated in the Sinew Realm bouts. If Han recalled correctly, Duan Jin had reached the peak of the Sinew Realm.


    Han shook his head, declining politely. “I didn’t join this tournament. What’s there to spar over between us?”


    “The tournament’s over,” Duan Jin shot back. “Consider this a chance for me to test myself against Heiyun’s so-called top genius. I want to see just how ‘genius’ a Tai Bai disciple is—someone who’d turn their nose up at the Emperor’s Academy.”


    Han’s brow furrowed. This guy’s trying to pin a label on me, huh? Back when he’d first emerged in Heishan two months ago, he’d displayed near-dominance in the Sinew Realm with just minor mastery. Given his pace, no one could reasonably think he hadn’t progressed since. Was Duan Jin delusional, thinking his peak Sinew Realm stood a chance?


    Or… was this not even Duan Jin’s idea?