"They’ve all gone?"
His voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed clearly in everyone’s ears.
"Yes, Leader."
A Ninth-level Martial Artist to his left immediately answered, a holographic tactical screen updating in real time floating before him. "We just received confirmation. The four-person team of Dragon Jade, Nissan, Ning Jing, and Qin Feng has departed. Their warp target is the Crying Cradle."
"A nightmare-level mission, with a reward of three hundred thousand Battle Team Points."
Another Martial Artist added, his tone grave, "Right now, in the level-five bracket of the leaderboard, the gap between us and the second-place Iron Blood Warband is two hundred and ten thousand points. This mission will directly determine this year’s First Battle Group."
Feng Zhiyu nodded slowly, his face showing no trace of joy or tension.
He was more concerned with something else.
"Have our ’veterans’ kept up?"
he asked in a low voice. "Don’t let our heroes shed blood out there only to shed tears."
"Reporting, Leader. They’ve kept up."
The first Martial Artist replied, "The three ’veterans’ assigned to provide covert protection have already infiltrated the Lost Star Realm ahead of time through secret channels. They’ll monitor the entire mission. However, according to the tournament’s highest rules, they are forbidden from interfering to assist the mission in any way. If they do act, it can only be to save the lives of the squad members, and the mission itself will be immediately ruled a failure."
"I don’t care if the mission is a success or a failure."
Feng Zhiyu’s tone turned sharp. "You tell them not to think about those three hundred thousand points, and to forget about that damn First Battle Group title! My people—they must be brought back alive! Especially Qin Feng! Do you understand?!"
"Understood!"
The Ninth-level Martial Artist immediately straightened his spine and replied loudly.
"Good."
Only then did Feng Zhiyu’s tense expression soften slightly.
He let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair, a complex mix of emotions in his eyes.
"I remember, back before the tournament started, when we were doing our internal potential assessments. You all said that newcomer, Qin Feng, was a genius who progressed at a miraculous rate. I argued that he hadn’t been enrolled long enough, that his foundation was unstable. I said that in thirty years, he probably wouldn’t have even figured out how to combine his apertures."
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "And then, in the blink of an eye, not only did he succeed in combining his apertures, he became even stronger than that battle maniac, Ning Jing. It’s just... you can never predict these things."
As soon as he said this, every Ninth-level powerhouse in the conference room wore the same expression as Feng Zhiyu—a mixture of shock and awe.
"Leader, you weren’t the only one who misjudged him. We all did."
A steady, seasoned Ninth-level Martial Artist sighed. "He can’t be described as a mere ’genius’ anymore. He’s a true Demon. Even at Canaan Starry Sky Martial Arts University, a place teeming with prodigies and monstrous talents, he’s in a class of his own—the kind who can look down on all the heroes and firmly secure the top spot."
"So,"
Feng Zhiyu’s gaze sharpened once more. "we absolutely cannot let anything happen to him! Relay my orders to those three ’veterans’. If the mission shows any sign of an uncontrollable downturn, they are to intervene and save him immediately, right away, at any cost! Is that understood?!"
"Understood!"
Within the conference room, over a dozen powerful auras assented in unison.
They looked at one another, each seeing the same unconcealable shock deep in the other’s eyes.
Forty years to open one’s apertures, thirty years to combine them.
This kind of speed was something they, Planet-level Strongmen who had lived for millennia and weathered countless storms, had truly never seen or heard of.
Most importantly, it wasn’t just that Qin Feng improved quickly.
His power was terrifyingly solid!
His physical body, powerful enough to rival a Starry Sky Giant Beast; his killing techniques, seemingly honed over centuries of relentless practice; his full repertoire of combat arts from every school, all perfectly mastered and brought to the Control Realm...
Speed, power, technique, Will, foundation...
He had no weaknesses!
-----------------
Canaan Starry Sky Martial Arts University, Private Forums, Public Discussion Section.
At this moment, activity in this Virtual Space—a place usually frequented by countless students, instructors, and even alumni—had reached a fever pitch.
Countless threads were popping up one after another, but the most eye-catching was undoubtedly the one pinned and highlighted in scarlet red by the administrator—a discussion thread that could only be described as the drama of the year.
[TITLE]: [FINAL PREDICTIONS!] Only four months left in the Warband tournament! Can the Fearless defend their title? Can the Iron Blood make a comeback? In this ultimate showdown, who will be crowned king?!
Below the post, the number of replies had already surpassed the one million mark and was still growing at a terrifying rate.
"First! Selling snacks, drinks, and nutrient paste! Get ’em while they’re hot! P.S. I’m putting my money on the Iron Blood Warband, odds are 1.2 to 1. All bets are final!"
"Get outta here, you profiteer! Do we even need predictions for this? The Iron Blood Warband has it in the bag this year! The Fearless Warband has ruled Canaan for too long. It’s time for a new king!"
"I wonder if the Fearless Warband can actually defend their title this time. To be honest, I really like their style—low-key, powerful, and they treat their own people exceptionally well."
"It’s looking grim, bro. Not to be a downer on Fearless, but the data doesn’t lie. Just look at the official real-time leaderboard. According to the latest update, in the most important level-five bracket, the points gap between the Fearless Warband and the Iron Blood Warband has widened to two hundred and ten thousand! The Iron Blood Warband has a massive lead!"