Chapter 90 — WHEN THE WORLD HOLDS ITS BREATH
The Grand Arena of Vermillion Phoenix Academy had never seen a morning like this.
From the moment the first light crept over the horizon, the city surrounding the academy began to move. Streets that were normally wide and relaxed choked with people. Airships hovered in regulated lanes, lowering passengers onto designated platforms. Spirit carriages lined up in long, glittering queues. Cultivators leapt from rooftops, merchants shouted directions, guards barked orders that barely kept pace with the flood.
By the time the sun fully rose, tens of thousands had already gathered.
And they were still coming.
The arena itself was no longer the familiar circular coliseum used for standard tournaments.
For Stage Three, Part Two, the Vermillion Academy had unveiled something entirely different.
The original arena floor had been dismantled.
In its place stretched a vast, irregular battlefield, layered and uneven, divided into zones of shattered stone, dense forest projections, shallow water basins, elevated platforms, collapsed ruins, and narrow corridors formed by jagged terrain. Formation lines glowed faintly beneath the surface, not to protect fighters from one another, but to contain what would happen when they inevitably went too far.
This was not a stage meant for duels.
This was a stage meant for survival.
Above the general audience seats, rising like a second crown atop the arena, was a sealed VIP chamber. Its walls were formed of black-painted spirit glass, opaque from the outside, impossible to see through even for most cultivators. No insignias. No banners.
Yet everyone knew.
Behind that glass sat the real power.
High-ranking guild officers. Military representatives. Elder-level figures from major sects. Observers who did not cheer, did not gamble openly, and did not come for spectacle alone.
They came to measure the future.
The general audience, by contrast, was anything but restrained.
The stands were alive.
Shouts overlapped into a constant roar. Flags waved. Betting slips changed hands one last time. Names were chanted, argued over, cursed, praised. The air vibrated with excitement so thick it felt almost tangible.
"THIS IS IT!"
"FINAL STAGE!"
"WHO’S WALKING OUT?!"
Somewhere near the front rows, a small family stood close together.
Long Hao’s little sister was practically bouncing on her toes.
"Mom! Mom! Look!" she said, tugging insistently at her mother’s sleeve. "Brother is gonna come out soon! He’s gonna be right there! Look, look, look!"
Her mother smiled, worry hidden carefully behind warmth. "I’m looking," she said softly. "Slow down, you’ll trip."
"But he’s never been on a stage this big!" the girl insisted, eyes shining. "Everyone’s here! Even those people!" She pointed vaguely upward toward the black-glass chamber.
Her father stood quietly beside them, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the arena with an intensity that did not waver. He said nothing, but his jaw was tight.
Nearby, other families mirrored the same tension. Hope and fear intertwined so tightly they were indistinguishable.
Then—
The lights dimmed.
Not suddenly.
Deliberately.
A hush rippled outward, wave after wave, until even the loudest sections of the crowd fell into expectant silence.
A single platform rose from the side of the arena, hovering smoothly into place.
A man stepped forward.
The announcer.
His robe shimmered with embedded amplification arrays, his voice already resonating before he spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed, spreading his arms wide, "cultivators, citizens, honored guests, and those watching from beyond these walls—"
The crowd erupted.
He smiled, letting the sound crest before continuing.
"The moment you have been waiting for... has finally arrived."
Cheers thundered.
"THIS is Stage Three, Part Two of the Inter-Academy Tournament!" ,he declared.
The arena trembled as formations responded to the surge of emotion.
"Today," the announcer continued, voice rising, "there are no teams."
A murmur ran through the stands.
"No alliances."
Louder now.
"No protection."
A roar.
"Only one will remain!"
The crowd lost all restraint.
"And before our warriors step onto the battlefield," the announcer said, raising one hand, "let us welcome those who stand at the summit of our academies!"
The platform beside the battlefield flared with light.
"FIRST," the announcer called, "the dean of Azure Dragon Academy, the man who oversaw the opening trials of this tournament!"
DEAN XUANYUAN SHEN
Applause rolled through the stands.
The Azure Dragon Dean inclined his head slightly. No theatrics. No wasted motion.
"SECOND," the announcer shouted, "the dean of Dragon Turtle Academy, host of Stage Two!"
DEAN AO LIE
The air shook as the Dragon Turtle Dean strode out.
He raised both arms, muscles flexing, aura roaring outward like a war drum.
The crowd went wild.
He laughed loudly, waving, striking a ridiculous pose that somehow still radiated terrifying power.
The Azure Dragon Dean closed his eyes briefly.
"Not again," he muttered.
"And finally," the announcer’s voice lifted with unmistakable excitement, "the host of today’s grand event... the dean of Vermillion Phoenix Academy!"
DEAN FENG HUARONG
Crimson light flared.
She stepped out between the two men, smiling brightly, youthful and radiant—looking barely forty, though many in the VIP chamber knew better.
The crowd cheered even louder.
She waved cheerfully, then folded her hands behind her back, aura blooming in a controlled, elegant flare that sent a ripple of heat through the air.
The Dragon Turtle Dean leaned toward her. "STILL SHOWING OFF."
She smiled sweetly. "You started it."
The Azure Dragon Dean sighed. "Why am I here."
The announcer laughed, letting the crowd enjoy the moment.
"NOW," he shouted, "LET US WELCOME THE PARTICIPANTS!"
The lights shifted.
"FIRST," he called, "THE HOST ACADEMY—VERMILLION PHOENIX ACADEMY!"
A gate opened.
Figures stepped out one by one.
At the front was Rong Yueran, Vermillion’s captain, aura sharp and confident, her presence immediately drawing cheers.
Behind her followed Vermillion’s elite, each greeted with applause, names announced, talents briefly highlighted.
The crowd loved them.
This was their home.
"NEXT," the announcer declared, "DRAGON TURTLE ACADEMY!"
The cheers turned heavier.
The gate opened again.
Xing Yanlong emerged first, massive frame steady, abyssal pressure rolling outward.
Then Fang Zhao, eyes wild, grin sharp, tiger aura snarling around him.
Then—
Yue Hanran.
Calm. Serene. Water-like aura flowing around him as he took his place at the front.
The announcer’s voice sharpened.
"ACTING CAPTAIN—DISCIPLE OF THE DRAGON TURTLE DEAN!"
A ripple of excitement surged through the stands.
"NOW," the announcer called, "AZURE DRAGON ACADEMY!"
The cheers were immediate.
The gate opened.
Chen Wulian stepped out first, chest out, grinning broadly, raising a fist to the crowd.
They roared back.
Ouyang Xue’er, cool and elegant, frost aura restrained.
Then—
Ling Yifan.
The moment he stepped forward, the noise changed.
Spear resting against his shoulder, posture straight, eyes forward, he did not acknowledge the crowd.
And finally—
The gate paused.
The announcer smiled knowingly.
"And last," he declared, "from Azure Dragon Academy..."
A figure walked out slowly.
Black hair. Calm expression. Hands in his pockets like he was late for something mundane.
Long Hao.
The crowd reacted in waves.
Whispers. Shouts. Arguments.
"That’s him!"
"The Gold Rank—"
"No way, he looks normal—"
Inside his mind, a small glowing figure hovered, arms crossed, cheeks puffed.
"I cannot BELIEVE you," Longyu snapped, voice high and indignant. "You were SLEEPING. On a day like this!"
Long Hao yawned quietly. "I was conserving energy."
"CONSERVING ENERGY?!" she squeaked. "This is the FINAL STAGE! Everyone is watching! The heavens are watching!"
She floated closer, poking his forehead.
"And you walked out like you just woke up from a nap!"
"I did," he replied calmly.
She gasped, then folded her arms, turning away dramatically.
"Hmph. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."
The crowd roared as he took his place.
Above, behind black glass, eyes narrowed.
The announcer raised his voice one last time.
"WARRIORS," he shouted, "THE FINAL STAGE BEGINS!"
The battlefield awaited.
And the world leaned forward.
[Chapter ENDS]