Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

After the sixth match concluded, Wu Zetian, carrying her sword, jumped off the stage, waved to Ye Xingchen, and returned to the Zhenbei Marquis's camp with a smile.

But her gaze never left the direction of the Marquis of Weeping Blood's residence—the young man who had been sitting quietly at the back of the camp.

In fact, not only Wu Zetian, but everyone present was looking in that direction, intentionally or unintentionally.

From dawn to afternoon, six martial arts competitions took place, with various prodigies taking turns on stage. Some displayed their brilliance, some suffered narrow defeats and left the stage, some returned laughing, and some retreated in dejection.

It was fantastic!

But everyone knew that the real show was yet to begin.

The storm that had been brewing since last night has been raging on, but the main character has remained seated in the audience, completely still.

He is waiting.

Everyone is waiting for him.

Let him step down, let him reveal the celestial heritage, and let them rightfully challenge, seize, and divide it up.

The tea in the teacups was added again and again until it cooled, then added again. The sun rose high overhead, shrinking the shadow of the arena into a single mass. The leaders of various factions chatted seemingly casually, but their gazes secretly met, exchanging a tacit understanding.

Master Liaoyin of Wanfo Temple closed his eyes and twirled his prayer beads, a compassionate smile on his lips. But the several warrior monks behind him had already rubbed the vajra pestle three times.

The Blood Shadow Elder of the Heavenly Demon Sect sat in the shadows, his withered fingers tapping the armrest repeatedly, his cloudy old eyes fixed on the direction of the Weeping Blood Marquis's residence.

Jian Wuming, the Grand Elder of the Four Extremes Sword Sect, stood with his hands behind his back, expressionless, but his gaze never left Dongfang Weiwo.

Chu Tianxing, the head of the Chu family, gently waved his folding fan, on which was painted a landscape painting, but his fingers unconsciously increased the pressure on the fan handle.

Master Qingyuan of the Zhenwu Dao Sect sighed and whispered to Guiyuan beside him, "A storm is coming."

The young Taoist priest Guiyuan nodded slightly, his gaze complex as he looked in the direction of the Weeping Blood Marquis's residence: "That benefactor from the East, from beginning to end, didn't even change his expression. Uncle-Master, what do you think he's thinking?"

Master Qingyuan was silent for a moment: "Perhaps he's waiting for the perfect opportunity. Or perhaps... he doesn't care about the timing at all."

On the viewing platform, the King of the East Sea picked up his teacup, took a small sip, and a smile that no one could decipher played on his lips. His gaze swept across the entire hall and landed on Dongfang Weiwo, as if he were anticipating something.

Being stared at by so many eyes would make anyone feel extremely uncomfortable.

But in the East, I alone remain steadfast as a mountain.

He sat in the camp of the Marquis of Weeping Blood, dressed in black, his face calm, his eyes clear as a deep pool.

Dongfang Mingyue sat beside him, already restless with anxiety. She glanced at the arena, then at her brother, her grip on the scabbard making a creaking sound. Finally, she couldn't bear it any longer and leaned closer, lowering her voice to say:

"Hey bro, when are you going to go? It's getting dark soon! Didn't you see those guys' eyes? They're staring at you like hungry wolves! If you don't go up and set things up soon, they'll really think you're scared!"

Dongfang Weiwo glanced at her sister, a slight smile playing on her lips: "No rush."

"Not in a hurry?" Dongfang Mingyue's eyes widened. "Look down at the arena, those guys are all sharpening their knives, just waiting for you to go up and get beaten up! If you're worried about not being able to handle the gauntlet, I can go up and clear out a few rounds for you first. I can still fight!"

"No need." Dongfang Weiwo withdrew his gaze, his tone calm. "Let them wait. The longer they wait, the less patience they'll have, and the more flaws they'll reveal."

Dongfang Mingyue paused for a moment, then understood. She opened her mouth, but ultimately let out a helpless sigh: "Alright, alright, you've grown up, you have your own ideas. But I'm warning you—if you get beaten up later, I'll rush up and chop them all down, then I'll take you away."

A hint of a smile flashed in Dongfang Weiwo's eyes: "Good, with you saying that, I'm relieved."

Another half hour passed, and three matches on the arena had already ended.

Finally, after Wu Zhao defeated Ye Xingchen in the sixth match, the arena fell silent.

No one else went on stage.

Everyone instinctively looked in the same direction.

The silence began to spread, from the area around the arena to the entire coastline. The wind was still blowing, the waves were still lapping, but the sounds of people talking, weapons clashing, and footsteps were gradually fading away.

In the end, the entire audience fell silent.

The only sounds were the crashing of the waves and the fluttering of banners in the wind.

All eyes were focused on the young man in black who slowly stood up in the Weeping Blood Marquis's camp.

"That's about it."

Dongfang Weiwo stretched his shoulders, his bones making a slight "crackling" sound. His voice wasn't loud, but in the silence of the entire room, it was as clear as thunder rolling across the sky.

He stood up and walked step by step toward the ring.

His steps were steady and powerful, his rhythm even, neither too fast nor too slow. Each step seemed to resonate with the heartbeats of everyone present. His boots left deep, even, and straight footprints in the sand, as if measured by a ruler.

The obsidian arena had nine steps, which he climbed one by one. With each step, his aura intensified. It wasn't a deliberate release, but a natural, spontaneous presence, like a sleeping beast slowly awakening.

When he stepped onto the final level and stood in the center of the ring, everyone's heart tightened at the same time.

He stood there, like a drawn sword, its sharpness fully revealed.

His gaze swept across the entire room.

From left to right, from Wanfo Temple to Tianmo Sect, from Siji Sword Sect to Chu Family, from Zhenwu Dao Sect to Zhenbei Marquis's Mansion, from the imperial court camp to the area of ​​independent cultivators, from those prodigies to those big shots.

Everyone was "seen" in his gaze.

Then he spoke.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a sharp blade cutting through the silence that enveloped the entire room:

"I have seen your strength."

Those five words, like five nails, were driven into the ears of everyone present.

Some people in the audience gasped, some looked grim, some frowned, and some sneered.

But no one interrupted him.

Dongfang Weiwo slowly raised his right hand, his well-defined fingers pointing towards all the geniuses below the stage. His arm was stretched straight out, his fingers like a sharp sword, slicing across the faces of Chu Yunxiao, Li Tianxing, Wu Zhao, Ye Xingchen, the four sword disciples of the Four Extremes Sword Sect, Wangwo, Guiyuan...

Then he said those words.

"You can all come at me together."

The entire room fell silent.