Witnessing Wang Chen's dazzling technique struck Wang Teng's heart like a hammer. His hand trembled, the carving knife slipped, and the core array he was inscribing went crooked.
"Damn it!" Wang Teng cursed aloud at the sight of the ruined array of rare metal before him.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied his mind and comforted himself:
"It doesn't matter… Even if Wang Chen's soul tools are stronger than mine, my soul power is higher, my body tougher, and I still have my powerful thousand-year-old third soul skill. In the end, victory will be mine!"
With that thought, Wang Teng's mood improved. He stopped glancing at Wang Chen's impressive technique and focused on his own work.
The other Wang juniors, though shocked, also concentrated on their crafting. Unlike Wang Teng, none of them had aimed for first place; they simply wanted a decent ranking.
Meanwhile, in the viewing stands, the clan members buzzed with discussion.
"Wang Chen's talent in soul tool crafting is terrifying. I doubt there are even a handful in the entire Sun and Moon Empire who could match him. This time, who takes first place in the Family Tournament is truly hard to say."
"I still think Wang Teng has the better chance. The gap between a three-ring Soul Elder and a two-ring Grand Soul Master isn't so easily bridged."
In the front row sat Wang Teng's parents. Seeing their son's spotlight stolen by Wang Chen, they couldn't help but shout:
"My son Wang Teng has the potential of a Titled Douluo! When the second round comes, he will easily crush Wang Chen!"
Wang Chen's parents were also present. Hearing others look down on their beloved son, they immediately argued back.
"Our son Wang Chen's talent far surpasses Wang Teng's. If Wang Teng weren't nearly a year older, he wouldn't even be a match for our boy."
Wang Teng's parents scowled. Their son was their pride, and hearing him belittled was intolerable. They retorted on the spot.
"You dare say our son is inferior to yours?"
Wang Chen's parents shot back without hesitation, "And what if we do? Your son is indeed no match for ours. In talent, in looks, how could he compare to Wang Chen?"
The truth is often the sharpest blade—and their words were not without basis. In pure talent and appearance, Wang Chen indeed shone brighter.
The quarrel escalated quickly until other Wang clansmen stepped in to mediate. After all, they were one family—such bickering in public was hardly proper.
Three hours passed in the blink of an eye.
At Judge Wang Yuan's command, everyone stopped their crafting.
Over half of the participants had failed to produce even a second-tier soul tool and were eliminated.
Only thirty-six advanced to the second round.
Wang Chen looked down at the two peak third-tier soul tools on his table, a smile tugging at his lips.
One was an attack-type soul tool, the other a mobility-type.
The attack soul tool was a sharp spear. The mobility tool was a soul thruster, designed to be worn on the back. Once fueled by soul power, it could unleash tremendous propulsion—boosting speed to rival that of an agility-type Soul Elder.
As Wang Chen stowed the two soul tools away, Wang Teng strode over to him.
He glared hard at Wang Chen's calm, handsome face, lips trembling as if struggling to form words.
Seeing this, Wang Chen chuckled. "Cousin Wang Teng, whatever you want to say, just say it. No need to hold it in."
Wang Teng's voice burned with competitiveness:
"You've won in soul tool crafting. But don't get cocky—the final victory in this Family Tournament will be mine."
Spitting out his thoughts, he turned sharply and stalked away, fists clenched.
The number one of the Wang clan's younger generation can only be me, Wang Teng!
After the first round concluded, Judge Wang Yuan announced a one-hour break, giving the youths time to restore their spirit and soul power.
At once, Wang Chen and the others sat cross-legged, practicing meditation to recover, determined to be at peak condition for the second round.
An hour later, Wang Yuan retrieved a box from his storage soul tool and declared:
"Line up and draw lots. Those who draw the same number will face each other in battle.
Remember—the only soul tools allowed are those you crafted yourselves in the first round. Use anything else, and you'll be disqualified.
During combat, fight without restraint. Don't worry about injuries—the judges will be watching closely. If danger arises, we'll intervene.
But keep in mind: the moment we step in, you lose.
Now then, begin the drawing!"
Wang Teng's eyes burned with fighting spirit as he glanced at Wang Chen.
"I'll go first."
He strode forward, reached into the box, and pulled out a slip—Number 3.
Turning to Wang Chen, he sneered, "I really hope I get matched with you."
Wang Chen met his gaze calmly. "I hope you can keep that arrogance."
He then stepped up and drew his own slip—Number 5.
Wang Teng lingered nearby, catching sight of Wang Chen's number. He etched it into memory.
When everyone had drawn, Wang Teng suddenly called out:
"Who drew Number 5? Hand it over to me!"
A junior spoke up nervously. "I… I drew Number 5."
In an instant, Wang Teng rushed forward, snatched the slip from him, and shoved his own Number 3 slip into the boy's hands.
He turned back toward Wang Chen, eyes blazing.
"Wang Chen, do you dare face me in battle?!"
At once, Wang Teng released his martial soul. Three soul rings—two yellow, one purple—rose around him, shining brilliantly.
The powerful aura of a Soul Elder surged forth, sweeping toward Wang Chen like a storm.