The Grand Arena, a colossal amphitheater carved directly into the bedrock of the central peak, was packed to absolute maximum capacity.
Banners of every color snapped in the morning wind.
Floating projection screens replayed the greatest hits of the past three days.
Ji’an stood in the center of the extraction circle, her ears ringing, her Szechuan Red combat silk hanging in tattered ribbons. She blinked, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding glare of the morning sun.
"Look at them!" a commentator’s magically amplified voice boomed from the executive box. "The vanguard of the new era! The survivors of the most brutal crucible in sectarian history!"
But the cheers were not evenly distributed.
As the dust settled and the sixteen survivors became visible, the crowd’s roar didn’t focus on the pristine, silver-haired Ice Demon, nor the radiant, golden-haired Holy Son.
The stadium hysterically lost its collective mind over the exhausted cook standing in the middle.
"MARTIAL UNCLE LIN!"
A massive section of the eastern stands, populated by the ethereal maidens of the Azure Lotus Pavilion and the various female disciples of the host sect, erupted into a coordinated, deafening shriek of pure romantic hysteria.
They were waving hand-painted banners that read ’THE RED MENACE STOLE MY HEART!’ and ’TENDERIZE ME, DEAR APEX ANOMALY!’ Silk handkerchiefs and embroidered sachets rained down upon the marble floor like a torrential downpour of scented confetti.
"He is the God of War!" a younger male disciple from the Outer Sect screamed, practically weeping with admiration as he held up a poorly forged, crude iron spatula he had clearly just purchased from a scamming merchant outside the gates. "He broke the colosseum with his heel! He is the Subterranean Butcher! I am switching my major to Culinary Dao!"
Ji’an stood frozen in the center of the arena, a rogue embroidered handkerchief landing squarely on top of her messy dark ponytail.
She looked at the screaming maidens, the fanatical junior disciples trying to mimic her stance, and looked at the projection screen currently playing a slow-motion, dramatic replay of her executing the Searing Palm of Heavens on Lu Jianheng.
’I didn’t just survive the plot,’ Ji’an’s brain flatlined, overwhelmed by the stratospheric level of her accidental fame. ’I became the plot itself. The idol, the merchandising opportunity. I am going to have to start charging royalties for spatula sales.’
Beside her, Shen Zechuan happily reached out and plucked the perfumed handkerchief off her head.
"You are very popular, Uncle Ji’an," Zechuan noted, a bright, goofy smile completely ruining his mandated tragic-prince aesthetic. "They are throwing laundry at you. Is this a traditional victory rite?"
"It’s a hazard," Ji’an grumbled, swatting his hand away, her face burning a brilliant shade of crimson that rivaled her torn robes. "Don’t touch the laundry, Zechuan. We don’t know where it’s been."
Xie Wangchen, standing on her left, did not look annoyed by the cheering crowd. He looked at the screaming maidens, the fanatical boys, and the showering confetti with a dark, incredibly smug, proud smirk.
He didn’t care that they loved her. He knew, with the certainty of a man who had successfully secured a monopoly on her cooking, that they could scream all they wanted from the stands.
She was standing next to him.
"Let them cheer, Brother Ji’an," Wangchen purred softly, his ruby eyes glinting. "They bear witness to the God of Battle. It is only fitting they offer tribute to the altar."
"I am a line cook, Wangchen, not a deity. And I am a guy, remember?" Ji’an hissed out of the corner of her mouth, though she couldn’t suppress the incredibly flattered smile pulling at her lips.
The deafening roar of the crowd was abruptly silenced by the resonant, heavy tolling of the Sect Leader’s golden chime.
GONG!!!
High in the floating executive box, Sect Leader Bai Yunfei stood up. He moved to the edge of the balcony, his pristine starlight-glass robes catching the sun. His dark, intelligent eyes swept over the sixteen survivors, projecting an aura of benevolent authority that immediately quelled the chaos.
"The crucible is concluded!" Bai Yunfei’s melodic voice echoed across the stadium, carrying the weight of undisputed law. "The Shattered Realm has tested your bodies, your minds, and your Dao hearts. You sixteen who stand before me have proven yourselves the undisputed apex of this generation!"
A reverent hush fell over the hundred thousand spectators.
"As was previously decreed," the Sect Leader continued, his eyes drifting subtly toward Lin Ji’an before panning back to the group. "The final ranking shall be set by the accumulated Sovereign Tokens. The administration arrays have tallied the results."
A massive, golden holographic scroll unrolled above the arena.
The crowd held its breath.
Rank 1: Shen Zechuan.
Rank 2: Xie Wangchen.
Rank 3: Gu Zhiwei.
Rank 4: Wen Shiru.
Rank 5: Hu Yanlie.
The list continued down to sixteen, populated by the male protagonists, a few incredibly resilient foreign elites, and the lucky few who had managed to hide from Ji’an’s rampage.
But Lin Ji’an’s name was absent from the final ranking.
A murmur of confusion rippled through the stands.
"Where is the Red Menace?" a Crimson Blade elder frowned, squinting at the board. "Did the arrays malfunction? He gathered dozens of tokens!"
Sect Leader Bai Yunfei raised a hand, a sly, political smile touching his lips.
"The observant among you will note the absence of Martial Uncle Lin," Bai Yunfei announced, his voice carrying a note of profound, theatrical respect. "This is because Lin Ji’an was not a participant in the Third Phase. He was the Hidden Proctor of the arena, supervising the other disciples participating. By the decree of the Sovereign Council, his martial superiority was deemed a necessary, insurmountable hurdle to test the true mettle of the finalists. He does not rank, for he operates above the metric of the tournament."
The stadium erupted again, the confirmation of her "boss status" only fueling the absolute, unhinged fanaticism of her newfound fan clubs.