The stadium finally breathed again.
The weight that had pressed against every chest—every mind—slowly lifted, replaced not by noise, but by motion.
Scholars shifted in their seats. Nobles straightened their robes. Cultivators exhaled long-held breaths.
Even the white stone terraces seemed to loosen, lantern light flickering warmly as dusk surrendered fully to night.
The competition had ended.
The meaning, however, still lingered.
At the center of the platform, Shaurya stood calmly as attendants prepared the presentation ceremony. The golden afterglow of the final debate had faded, but something quieter—deeper—remained etched into the air.
From the royal platform—
A loud laugh cut through the lingering hush of the stadium.
Not polite. Not restrained.
A laugh that rolled out freely, unapologetically.
"Hahaha—so?"
