of spectators from every corner of the continent held their breath, eyes fixed on the tournament platform, where shattered tiles and lingering energy ripples told the story of the previous round's brutality. Tang Clan's team stood quietly, dusting off their uniforms, breathing heavily but steady—victorious.
This was the final tournament, the peak of this era's competition. Each empire had sent one team. Spirit Hall had sent two: one led by a young prodigy from the Qian bloodline, and the other, a shadowy team backed by Bibi Dong herself. Even Sun Moon Continent had surprised the world by producing a team of terrifying cohesion, whose machine-spirit fusion abilities made many top-tier soul masters nervous.
And in the center of it all, the Tang Clan team stood steady—an iron mountain amidst a storm.
Though Tang San did not appear, his presence weighed heavily over the stage. Everyone knew: these disciples carried his teachings, his bloodline, and his terrifying legacy. They were no longer a team. They were a declaration.
—The next generation will rule.
---
Backstage Chamber, Tang Clan Inner Quarters
Tang San sat cross-legged in the darkness, a faint violet halo circling him. His breathing was calm, eyes half-closed. Every now and then, threads of light would dance across his body—golden, crimson, and silver, fusing into his meridians.
His cultivation had nearly reached its peak.
He had not broken through to Level 99 because he had chosen not to. Supreme godhood was not something one stumbled upon—it had to be refined. Forged through time, experience, karma, and revelation. He already had the body. The energy. The bloodline. What he lacked… was the world's acknowledgment.
A divine path built on mortal foundation. A godhood not inherited, but created.
So he waited, practiced, and watched from the shadows.
One shadow stepped forward and knelt.
"Ancestor," the voice whispered. It was an elite elder of the Tang Clan.
Tang San opened one eye. "Speak."
"The Spirit Hall team leader, Qian Rui, has revealed two 100,000-year spirit rings. His last technique was nearly divine-level. We suspect the Spirit Hall is hiding something."
"I know," Tang San replied quietly.
The elder hesitated. "Should we suppress him?"
Tang San smiled. "Why fear a sapling when the forest has already caught fire?"
The elder nodded and withdrew.
Tang San rose slowly. He looked toward the tournament stage and murmured, "The flames of competition… will forge the metal of tomorrow."
---
Tournament Arena – Second Round of Finals
The match today was simple: Tang Clan vs Sun Moon Empire.
The arena had been reinforced with ten defensive arrays. Spirit Hall themselves had insisted. The combined power of the young generation had become… dangerous.
The Tang Clan team stood tall: seven young disciples handpicked by inner elders. Their spirit rings glowed brilliantly—none below ten thousand years, and each member carried techniques refined over a decade of careful training.
But what truly stood out was their teamwork.
The formation was perfect. Their attacks, swift and layered. Each move was prepared for, each counter already calculated. The moment the Sun Moon team launched their machine-spirit synchronization barrage, the Tang Clan responded with a perfectly timed five-in-one strike—Tang San's upgraded technique. The energy compressed in that single moment exploded like a solar flare, obliterating half the enemy team's defense instantly.
Even the audience couldn't help but rise to their feet in awe.
"Is this still the younger generation?" one elder from the Star Luo Empire muttered.
"It's Tang Clan," someone whispered back. "They are different now."
After the clash ended, only two members of Sun Moon remained, both severely injured. They knelt on the ground, unable to stand.
The judge signaled the end.
"Tang Clan wins."
The audience erupted. Cheering, shouting, stomping—like thunder rolling across the heavens.
---
Days Later – Tang Clan Headquarters
A celebration was held, but Tang San didn't attend. His focus was elsewhere.
In the deepest chamber of the clan, surrounded by formations and ancient totems, Tang San was finalizing the foundation for his next technique.
It was a Spirit Rebirth upgrade.
Not just recycling rings—but rebirthing them.
Using the residual energy from a destroyed ring, he was developing a method to artificially nurture it again using special energy herbs, specific beast bones, and unique karmic sealing arrays. If successful, it would allow him to bypass the current bottleneck and even create spirit rings with traits tailor-made for combat.
However, it required immense resources.
"Still too unstable," he muttered, analyzing the formation. "A minor imbalance… and the ring will shatter instead of evolve."
Behind him, his wife entered.
Her long white robes fluttered silently as she stepped forward. Her beauty was timeless—tranquil yet fierce. Her eyes, once those of a soul beast, now reflected humanity, but behind that humanity remained the pride and wisdom of a beast king.
"You've worked too long," she said gently.
"I'm close," Tang San replied.
She watched the formation with narrowed eyes. "You've already exceeded the level of a mortal. Why not take the Godhood and be done with it?"
Tang San shook his head. "It's not about becoming a god. It's about becoming me."
---
Meanwhile – In the Final Tournament Preparation Hall
Spirit Hall's team was preparing for their next match.
Qian Rui stood shirtless in the center of a glowing array, spirit power surging. His back carried a strange sigil—something Bibi Dong had personally placed.
"We will win this," he whispered. "I will prove that Spirit Hall still rules the continent."
Beside him, a hidden elder of Spirit Hall nodded.
"Be wary of Tang Clan's true move. Their five-in-one technique was terrifying, but it was not the peak."
Qian Rui smirked. "Neither was mine."
---
Final Tournament – Grand Finals Announcement
The final match was set.
Tang Clan vs Spirit Hall.
The entire continent turned their eyes to the arena.
Merchants paused business. Sects delayed their rituals. Empires suspended political meetings. Every cultivator, from commoners to emperors, was watching.
Because this was more than a match.
It was a symbol of a new age.
---
Tang San's Inner Thoughts
As the bell rang for the final battle, Tang San remained seated in his chamber, fingers interlocked.
"The children will walk the path," he murmured. "I will clear the thorns in silence."
His aura pulsed.
Level 98.
Peak Duoluo.
But unlike others, his next step wasn't toward godhood.
It was toward perfectio