Chapter Eighteen: The End of the Show

"This conclusion was reached by the Sect Master and all the elders together," the burly man's voice rang out, clear and resonant, reaching every corner of the square.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at Liu Pan, unable to recover from their shock for quite some time. If there had been any lingering doubts about the burly man's earlier words, they vanished completely now. In their hearts, there was only astonishment.

In the southern borderlands of the Tianfeng Continent, the Hundred Sun Sect was the mightiest sect. The Sect Master and the elders were revered as godlike figures, beyond the comprehension of most.

And yet, this group of near-divine beings had all come to the same conclusion—that Liu Pan's understanding of martial arts surpassed even theirs. How could this not leave everyone stunned?

An individual's judgment could be mistaken, and even two people might err, but when an entire group reaches the same verdict, then even if it should be wrong, it is, in a sense, still right!

A glimmer of intrigue flickered in Ye Ming’s eyes. He truly hadn't expected Liu Kuang to be so highly esteemed. From the burly man's words, he understood that Liu Pan possessed the ability to claim first place, but his ambitions lay elsewhere, so he had chosen to concede to Ye Ming. This naturally made Ye Ming all the more curious about Liu Pan.

As for Liu Kuang, his eyes held a trace of realization. He had wondered why Liu Pan had surrendered so quickly; now it was clear that Liu Pan simply couldn't be bothered to compete. In the end, there was little point in vying for second or third, as the rewards for both positions were the same.

At this moment, Liu Pan felt genuinely helpless. In fact, it was the first time since arriving in this world that he had felt so powerless. Despite his efforts to keep a low profile, he had still been thrust into the spotlight—or perhaps, when the burly man announced his surrender, Liu Pan suddenly realized that he might have been too inconspicuous for his own good.

After handing the Wildlands Blade to Liu Kuang, Liu Pan had begun keeping to himself—doing little, seeing few people. During the competition, he had even deliberately raised his energy and spirit to their peak, to show how seriously he took the newcomer disciples' contest.

Through each round, even though he knew that once he reached the top ten he could challenge for a spot among them, he never intentionally lost a match. He fought each battle through to the end, not wanting to arouse any suspicion.

As for conceding in the final round, for an ordinary disciple, this wasn't all that strange. After all, both Liu Kuang and Ye Ming were formidable, and their fighting style was 'wild.' It made sense for him not to want to face them in combat.

However, what ordinary disciples did not question, the others surely would. All of Liu Pan’s matches had been watched closely by the Sect Master and elders, and his performance made it clear to these experienced eyes that he was capable of reaching the top three.

Thus, when Liu Pan, after securing a top-three spot, showed no interest in first place but simply conceded, it became obvious that his only goal had been to reach the top three. And in martial arts, one must have purpose and direction. For him to surrender so decisively after achieving his aim spoke to both his maturity and rational mind.

Naturally, such conduct would win high praise from those with discerning eyes.

So, even though Liu Pan conceded in his final two matches, he was still assigned to the Eighth Peak.

After the burly man's explanation, all doubts were laid to rest. Or rather, even if any uncertainties remained, no one dared voice them. With Zhao Fei's fate as a warning, who would want to repeat his mistake?

The burly man then proceeded to explain the rules of the mountain ranking.

Everyone soon understood that the ranking list wasn't fixed. Each month, the sect would set aside three days for disciples to compete, during which the disciples of each peak could challenge those from the peak above. Disciples of the Thirteenth Peak could challenge those of the Twelfth, Twelfth could challenge the Eleventh, and so on, until the disciples of the Ninth Peak could challenge those of the Eighth.

However, each disciple could only issue and accept one challenge per month. So, if the Twelfth Peak had 160 disciples, each could be challenged by only one from the Thirteenth, and all matches were strictly one-on-one—no one could be challenged multiple times in a month.

If the challenge was successful, the mountain numbers were swapped: the victor moved up, and the loser moved down.

Therefore, for a disciple of the Thirteenth Peak to reach the Eighth, they would have to work their way up step by step, winning each challenge along the way.

Hearing this rule, many disciples' eyes lit up, but their hearts quickly sank again.

Due to the annual recruitment of new disciples, each had only one year to strive for advancement. If they failed to reach a high enough rank in that year, they'd be expelled from the sect.

Of course, it wasn't absolutely necessary to climb so high; those who made significant progress in cultivation might also be chosen to stay.

The rules of the Hundred Sun Sect were undeniably harsh, but no one dared to complain. After all, it was the greatest sect on the southern border—who would dare question its ways?

With all the rules explained, it was finally time to disperse.

Once the burly man gave the signal, nearly half of those gathered in the square suddenly burst into motion, rushing down the mountain like startled rabbits. The sight of hundreds of 'rabbits' dashing off left many stunned, and only after a moment did it become clear that almost all of them were veteran disciples.

Soon, some of the new disciples caught on, their faces changing as they too raced down the mountain. More and more disciples came to their senses, and soon the exodus became a stampede—while those still confused found themselves swept along with the crowd.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, only a handful remained in the square. Liu Pan was among them.

He, of course, knew exactly why the others had rushed off. The accommodations on each peak were more or less the same, and now that the mountain assignments had been recalculated, those who wanted the best rooms had to be quick.

As for why Liu Pan hadn't hurried, the answer was obvious—he’d been assigned to the Eighth Peak. With only twenty people on the entire mountain, there was a room for everyone; even if he didn't get the very best, it would hardly be the worst. There was simply no need to fight over it.

Besides, as a newcomer, even if he was on the Eighth Peak, what business did he have scrambling for rooms? The veteran disciples were still lurking about, and a single misstep could lead to a fight—not worth the trouble. Liu Pan had no intention of getting into a scuffle over something so trivial.

After all, as long as the room kept out the wind and rain, any place would do. It wasn't as if he planned to spend his whole life in the Hundred Sun Sect.

In fact, there were others like Liu Pan who didn't bother to scramble—some because they lacked the strength, others because they had no reason to worry about finding a place.

Sweeping his gaze around, Liu Pan's lips curved in a faint smile. As expected, among those who stayed behind were many familiar faces, most of whom were also assigned to the Eighth Peak.

Liu Kuang and Wolf Hu hadn't left either.

Liu Kuang's attention was still fixed on Liu Pan. When the crowd had surged down the mountain, he’d hesitated for just a moment before understanding what was happening. That very hesitation made him even more curious about Liu Pan.

He'd noticed that, while everyone else scrambled, Liu Pan's eyes remained calm, as if he had known all along how things would unfold. But how could Liu Pan have known? All-knowing? For a brief moment, that word flashed through Liu Kuang’s mind.

Wolf Hu, on the other hand, hadn't noticed as much. When the first wave of disciples bolted, his feet had flashed with blue light—he’d been ready to charge down the mountain and figure things out later. But a glance at Liu Pan, standing motionless, made him abruptly halt.

Before long, the remaining few on the square trickled away. Liu Pan glanced at Wolf Hu trailing behind him, then at Liu Kuang, and felt a little exasperated. What was with these two, always following him around?

After a moment’s thought, Liu Pan turned to Wolf Hu and teased, "What now? Still following me? You can’t seriously want to be my little brother, can you?"

Hearing this blatant jest, Wolf Hu paused in surprise, realizing that Liu Pan had always known his earlier pledge of brotherhood was just empty words.

Yet, even with the joke out in the open, Wolf Hu showed no embarrassment—instead, he smiled and said, "Think of me as your little brother, if you like."

Liu Pan was taken aback. He’d expected Wolf Hu to frown and fall silent at the remark, but this reaction was entirely unexpected.

He frowned, glanced at Liu Kuang, but said nothing more.

He couldn’t help feeling uneasy about Liu Kuang, the protagonist of his own story. After almost losing to Wolf Hu in the competition, Liu Pan felt a lingering discomfort—after all, it was entirely his own doing, and had Liu Kuang truly lost, it would have wounded not only Liu Kuang himself, but perhaps even Liu Pan’s own martial spirit as the 'author.'

Therefore, Liu Pan resolved to interfere as little as possible in Liu Kuang’s growth from now on. If possible, he should disappear from Liu Kuang’s life altogether.

In silence, the three finally reached the Eighth Peak. But as soon as they arrived at the disciples' quarters, they were stunned to see that, despite the small number of people on the Eighth Peak, a fight had already broken out.