The Central Martial Arena was full of people who had come to watch exciting matches.
Of course, no nobles or anyone of high status were present, as these fights were considered boring to them.
This was usually for weaker cultivators who couldn't truly enjoy battles between high-level experts—especially when they couldn't even see them move.
So, the matches between rising geniuses especially at Golden Core Stage was perfect for them.
There were also the families of participants, cheering from the stands.
Nie Fengzhuo stood in the shadowed archway of the waiting area, his arms folded behind his back.
His black-and-silver robe fluttered slightly in the wind, embroidered with the emblem of the Nie Clan—a silver crane soaring amidst storm clouds.
The air was thick with tension, excitement, and the lingering scent of blood from the morning's earlier rounds.
But Nie Fengzhuo was calm.
Eyes closed, breath steady, he let the ambient noise fade into the background.
