All the participants in these two rounds of the minor elimination brackets were contenders who hadn't been particularly favored before the tournament — fringe figures, the lot of them.
Yan Qingsang, of course, belonged to the category of the underestimated. After his breakthrough to the Celestial realm, the cultivation regimen that Jiang Chen had tailored specifically for him had propelled his progress far beyond what he himself had imagined.
In both minor elimination bouts, he had breezed through with ease, advancing in a manner that could only be described as steamrolling.
It was plain to see that Yan Qingsang had entered these minor brackets with a chip on his shoulder. He felt he had been slighted.
By all rights, as a disciple of the Sacred Land, he should never have been slated for these preliminary elimination rounds. If anyone from the Sacred Land's affiliates was to participate, it should have been the young generation talents from second-rate or third-rate factions.
Yan Qingsang didn't know why he had been selected, but he had a gut feeling that someone had it in for him.
He hadn't lodged any formal protest. Instead, he made his protest through action.
He dispatched two opponents with crisp, decisive efficiency — a pointed display aimed squarely at the imperial house, a message: do not underestimate Yan Qingsang. He was no longer the Yan Qingsang of old.
Selecting him for a bracket like this was an insult.
Needless to say, Yan Qingsang's performance caught a great many people off guard. The Yan Family's contingent, in particular, was stunned beyond measure.
In their memories, Yan Qingsang was the sort of dead weight who couldn't be propped up no matter how hard you tried. Forget about representing the Sacred Land — even within the Yan Family itself, he would never have qualified for the Genius Sword Summit.
So when they first saw Yan Qingsang among the participants, their immediate assumption was that the man had pulled strings to get in.
But Yan Qingsang had shown them through sheer, undeniable action that he was a fundamentally different person now.
The Yan Family patriarch watched the proceedings with an expressionless face, though his insides were churning. A sudden, unsettling feeling crept over him — the sense that things were slowly slipping out of his control.
What on earth was going on? How had someone as utterly hopeless as Yan Qingsang suddenly found his stride?
The list of one hundred and twenty-eight was finally locked in.
Per the rules, what followed was considerably simpler.
Head-to-head matchups.
Naturally, in order to protect certain top-tier prodigies, the rules this time included a modest seeding provision. Designated seed competitors would essentially not encounter each other until the round of sixteen.
Jiang Chen, of course, had not been placed in the seed bracket, which meant he could face any opponent in any round.
Including Xiahou Zong.
As it happened, Jiang Chen's luck with the draw was rather favorable. His first-round opponent was a prodigy from a second-rate faction.
This particular prodigy was merely a half-step into the Celestial realm.
Among the tournament's competing delegations, talents of this caliber from second-rate factions belonged squarely to the weakest tier.
"My name is Qiu Ping, hailing from Radiant Moon Manor. I humbly ask Senior Brother Shao for his guidance."
The man's tone was earnest enough.
His actions, however, were rather less so. Before Jiang Chen even made a move, Qiu Ping launched his attack.
Clearly, Qiu Ping intended to catch Jiang Chen before he had found his footing.
But forget someone of Qiu Ping's caliber — even a fighter ten times stronger would never succeed in ambushing Jiang Chen on the arena floor.
The moment Jiang Chen set foot on the stage, his combat will and battle instincts locked in with absolute certainty, harder and more unyielding than bedrock.
Qiu Ping's surprise strike never even came close to reaching Jiang Chen before it was effortlessly deflected.
Naturally, Qiu Ping's character left Jiang Chen thoroughly unimpressed. If the man had come out swinging honestly from the start, Jiang Chen might well have shown some restraint, leaving his opponent a measure of dignity.
But this honey-tongued schemer — sweet words out of his mouth, dirty tricks with his hands — that, Jiang Chen could not abide.
He would show such a man no courtesy whatsoever.
A casual tap of his palm, and an irresistible current of air swept Qiu Ping clean off his feet.
"Get off the stage." Jiang Chen let out a cold snort. The powerful gust shoved Qiu Ping skyward like a kite with its string cut, sending him crashing down outside the arena in a heavy, graceless heap.
The fall left him dazed and disoriented, retching up last night's dinner.
Practitioners of this level couldn't even manage to tickle Jiang Chen now, let alone challenge him for dominance on the arena floor.
The utterly predictable first-round result drew quiet murmurs of surprise from the crowd.
Those who had been covertly watching him felt a chill run down their spines. This Shao Yuan — formidable indeed.
Speculation about him multiplied rapidly.
"What exactly is Shao Yuan's cultivation? How does a half-step Celestial fold like a toddler in his hands? That kind of overwhelming dominance shouldn't be possible for a first-stage Celestial genius."
Because Jiang Chen had concealed his true cultivation, keeping his divine energy tightly internalized, no one could read the depth of his power.
That, in turn, only added to Jiang Chen's mystique.
After finishing his first-round bout, Jiang Chen returned to the staging area with a placid expression. His demeanor was calm, his face betraying not a flicker of emotion — nothing to read on him one way or another.
Yan Qingsang, meanwhile, had drawn considerably less fortunate luck in the first round, matched against a prodigy from a first-rate faction. Their battle was raging fiercely, neither side gaining a clear advantage.