The Preliminaries

"Make way, make way! If you're not signing up, don't block the line!" "Maintain order! Queue up to register!" "You're here for the preliminaries too? What the hell, aren't you a life-skilling player?" "Hmph, playing the pig to eat the tiger, that's all. I have no choice but to reveal my true identity this time." "Just wanted to experience it! Who knows, maybe I'll get matched against a top dog. If I match with Great God Qiuyu, hehehe, even getting burned to ash would be worth it!" "Alright, that's enough out of you." "I only want to queue into that Lang-beast and settle an old score." Before the registration desk in Isdalia, a sea of people bustled with fiery excitement as thousands of players formed a winding, serpentine line. Registration for the preliminary rounds was in full swing. The entry fee was far from steep—a mere fifty silver dinars and 100 experience points—an expense even novice players could easily shoulder. Yet Elezerg was now home to four hundred thousand players, and a hundred thousand of them eagerly signed up for this event, bringing the empire a colossal windfall of fifty thousand gold dinars and one million experience points. "These Starfallen are truly mad." "Aren't they, though?" "Well, it's not like these Starfallen can truly die anyway. Let them slaughter each other; we're just here for the show." "I heard some of the dragonblood nobility are participating this time." "Oh? Then I'll definitely have to get a good look! Let's see what these lunatics are capable of!" "Hahaha, who knows if they'll be able to satisfy our appetite!" Inside the "Blood and Fire" Tavern beside the Isdalia arena, a band of burly men gazed out at the distant crowd, raising their tankards and drinking heartily. They were all gladiatorial enthusiasts of the empire. The empire had released vast quantities of tickets for both the preliminaries and the elimination tournament, enabling ordinary imperial citizens beyond the player base to partake in this grand festival. The Isdalia Grand Colosseum had originally hosted gladiatorial bouts on a regular basis, and over several years of development, it had cultivated a dedicated audience. The gladiators primarily consisted of specially trained prisoners of war and condemned criminals. Armed with shields, shortswords, and similar armaments, they battled to the death upon the arena sands, sometimes even wrestling fierce beasts like lions and brown bears to entertain the spectators. To the imperial populace, spectating gladiatorial combat was considered a "noble" pastime. With the conclusion of the Northland Unification War, many of the gladiators were former northern nobles and military officers. Watching once-arrogant, high-and-mighty nobles scrap and bleed merely to survive was undeniably cathartic for many citizens who had once held lowly stations in the old Northlands. Some individuals even purchased their own entry rights, signing life-and-death waivers to become so-called "freelance gladiators." Now, tickets to this monumental gladiatorial tournament had sparked a frantic scramble among the empire's combat aficionados, driving resale prices through the roof. The populace knew very well how formidable the Starfallen were, and their bizarre array of methods left everyone brimming with anticipation. The preliminaries were not held at the Isdalia Grand Colosseum, but across one hundred and fifty-four standard arenas scattered throughout the Cinder Empire, spanning a duration of seven days. The one thousand players who made it through the preliminaries would advance to the final elimination tournament, showcasing their elite mastery within the Isdalia Grand Colosseum—an opportunity countless players dreamed of. Within the packed queue, a player nearing the front of the desk had trembling hands, his expression flush with agitation. "From six in the morning until now... is it finally my turn...?" The name floating above his head read Luanshi Fusheng. He was a fighter player pursuing the Champion archetype who had also consumed a dragon bloodline potion, though its purity was modest at best. Luanshi Fusheng was not a closed-beta player, nor did he belong to any prestigious guild. Yet, driven by the soul of a diehard grinder, he ate all three meals inside his game pod, took on dozens of quests every single day, and had brute-forced his way to the version's level cap—Level 8. His dream was to make a stunning debut in this tournament, catch the eye of top-tier clubs, and become a true professional player. Have you ever seen the Hill Giant Canyon at two in the morning? Have you ever seen the Hazy Hills at four in the morning? Luanshi Fusheng had seen it all! And he had grinded quests in every single one of those places! He bowed his head, covered his eyes with one hand, and trembled from head to toe: "Hahaha, countless trials, countless battles—the time has finally come for me to unleash my full might! Masters of all paths, bring on your best—" "Are you done with your eighth-grader syndrome yet?" An impatient shout came from behind, abruptly cutting off Luanshi Fusheng's melodramatic monologue. "Hurry it up! Don't block the path." "Exactly! There are thousands of people waiting behind you. Are you going to waste everyone's time all by yourself?" "Seriously, bro, did you read too many web novels?" "Oh." Luanshi Fusheng dropped his hand, collected his emotions, and sheepishly stepped forward. "I want to register for the preliminaries." He handed over fifty silver dinars and tapped the prompt to "Agree to submit 100 XP" on his interface. The imperial yuan-ti receptionist offered her customary gentle smile, took the silver coins, quickly counted them, and retrieved a bronze token from beneath the counter. "Very well. Here is your tournament token, please keep it safe." "Contestant 22054, please proceed to Division 1, located in the southwestern outskirts of Isdalia, for your matches." Luanshi Fusheng accepted the bronze plaque as if it were a priceless treasure, the mild annoyance from being interrupted completely forgotten as excitement surged within him once more. "Division 1!" "22054, 22054... the more I say it, the smoother it sounds! I really am the chosen one!" "Keep moving already!" "You're done signing up, so why are you still hovering over the toilet without taking a shit?" More impatient jeers came from the players behind him. This time, Luanshi Fusheng did not argue. He simply spun around and walked off, a glint of resolve flashing across his eyes. *Hmph, you are witnessing the birth of a legend!* *Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never underestimate a youth in poverty!* *I have endured hardships beyond the imagination of ordinary men, pouring out endless sweat and toil.* *And the professional legend of Luanshi Fusheng begins right now, with these preliminaries!* *** On the way to the tournament grounds, a few familiar players approached from the opposite direction. "Holy crap, isn't that the Iron Will God?" "Sure enough, he showed up too!" "Luanshi Fusheng! The legendary madman who grinded for three days and three nights straight until he put himself in the hospital!" Hearing their "praise," Luanshi Fusheng maintained his silence, doing his best to preserve his image of a stern, solemn master. Yet he could not resist speaking up: "Oh? Are you all heading to the tournament as well? Perhaps we'll even cross blades later." *If my opponents are them, I might not even have to break a sweat to reach the elimination rounds,* Luanshi Fusheng thought to himself. The group shook their heads repeatedly. The player at the front, whose ID was AAA Jiancai Wangge, chuckled, "We're all newcomers who only joined during the imperial era. We don't have your inhuman grind, so we're not about to go up there and make fools of ourselves." Luanshi Fusheng asked curiously, "Then why are you heading to the venue?" AAA Jiancai Wangge let out a hearty laugh. "To watch, of course! There are quite a few celebrity players in Division 1 today!" "Wait..." His voice paused, his tone turning somewhat odd. "Fusheng, you're not competing today, are you?" "Yeah." Luanshi Fusheng nodded, declaring resolutely, "No matter what experts stand before me, soldiers will be blocked by generals, and water will be quelled by earth. I fear no one." "Ah... alright then. Best of luck on advancing." AAA Jiancai Wangge scratched his head. Watching Luanshi Fusheng leave behind an imposing silhouette, a look of profound pity washed over his face. Once he was out of earshot, a player beside him whispered, "Brother Wang, do you think the Iron Will God can advance?" "With his level of grinding, hardly anyone on the whole server can match him. Even if he started a bit late, it'd be wild if he couldn't even make the elimination rounds, right?" "Yeah, there's a reason they call him the Iron Will God. Last time I saw him, he was grinding in an ancient ruin—he stayed in that godforsaken place for an entire month." "Fusheng might have a touch of chunibyo, but his raw strength is legit." "Yeah, the Champion archetype is pretty solid among fighters." The players chattered amongst themselves. Unexpectedly, AAA Jiancai Wangge shook his head with regret, his tone laden with certainty. "He won't make it." "Huh?" "Why not?" "Even the Iron Will God can't advance? Isn't that a bit ridiculous?" AAA Jiancai Wangge gazed toward the grand arena in the distance, his expression grim. "Fusheng isn't weak. But what awaits him ahead... is pure hell!" A promotional flyer for the preliminaries drifted down from the sky, its printed illustrations and text still crisp and clear. *Imperial Glory, Clash of Titans! Division 1 Officially Opens!* *Featured Star Contestants Today: Gangtie Kuangchao, Dawei Tianlong, Mantou...* *** Division 1 was housed within a circular amphitheater formed by three tiers of vaulted arcades. Its outer walls rose thirty meters high, capable of seating over ten thousand spectators, creating an awe-inspiring presence. It was constructed in the architectural style of the Isdalia Grand Colosseum, merely scaled down in proportion. At this moment, the arena was already a cauldron of noise. Row upon row of seats was packed to the brim, players roaring in excitement alongside many imperial natives shouting and cheering. Bells tolled rhythmically overhead, and brilliant fireworks burst in dazzling arrays above the venue. "The flesh is weak, the machine ascends!" "Let's go, Brother Kuangchao! For the Omnissiah!" "Dawei Tianlong! The hope of monk players, smash them all to pieces!" "Will you win, Mantou? You'll win, you'll definitely win—just don't get knocked out in round one!" Even though it was only the preliminary round, the atmosphere was already electrifying. Because several celebrity players were scheduled for today's matches, ticket scalpers were already charging triple the original price. "Is this what a real tournament feels like? There are so many people!" "And this... is the beginning of my undefeated legend! The starting point of my professional career!" Gazing at the roaring crowd, Luanshi Fusheng felt his blood boil. He silently swore an oath in his heart: *One day, I will make every single one of them chant my name and cheer for me!* Calming his racing pulse, he coated his longsword with buffing weapon oils like Oil of Sharpness and Oil of Accuracy. This relatively rare Sword of Frost dealt bonus cold damage—a veritable god-tier weapon for the common player. Luanshi Fusheng had discovered it inside a noble crypt, having slaughtered dozens of undead before finally claiming it from the coffin. He glanced down at his wrist, where he wore a Mist Bracelet capable of casting the 2nd-tier spell Misty Step—another exceptionally powerful piece of equipment for a fighter. He had slaved away as an enslaved laborer in an orc tribe in the north for an entire month before catching the overseer off guard and snatching it away. And slung across his back was the Featherflight Bow, an armament obtained only after felling several Anzeta giant eagles. "Every single piece was earned through blood, sweat, and perilous toil!" "It's time to show the world the true might of a fighter!" As a fighter of the Champion archetype, he had devoted himself to honing his pure physical prowess to absolute perfection, capable of unleashing rapid, reinforced strikes using Action Surge. Paired with the cold damage of the Sword of Frost and the mobility granted by the Mist Bracelet, he firmly believed no one could stand before him. His tactical plan was simple: close the distance with Misty Step, then follow up with a flurry of reinforced heavy strikes to finish the enemy off instantly. The simpler the tactic, the more effective it was. He had once used this exact approach on the battlefield to cut down a northern wizard like a head of cabbage. At the thought, Luanshi Fusheng grew increasingly confident. He slowly closed his eyes, reminiscing over every bit of blood and effort he had poured into Elezerg. "Contestant 22054, Luanshi Fusheng." "Who's that?" "I think I remember that name. Isn't that the lunatic who grinded himself into the hospital?" "Hahaha, now that you mention it, I remember too!" The female announcer's voice resonated across the venue, joined by amused murmurs rippling through the stands. "Is it finally my turn?" Luanshi Fusheng slowly opened his eyes, a sharp gleam flashing in his pupils. Finally, his moment had arrived. Soon enough, all that ridicule and mockery would be crushed into dust before absolute strength. Suddenly, the entire arena erupted into a thunderous ovation. "He's here!" "Holy shit, that is badass!" Luanshi Fusheng paused, his brow furrowing slightly. *Are they cheering for me?* *No, I haven't even fought yet. My fame couldn't possibly have spread this far.* *Which means...* *They're cheering for my opponent?* *Could my opponent be some famous professional player?* *Good! Let him be the first stepping stone crushed beneath my feet, the glorious kickoff to my professional career! I'll show these clout-chasers what real strength looks like!* Luanshi Fusheng sneered and turned his gaze toward the arena floor, looking to size up the foe he was about to defeat. The next instant, his jaw dropped wide open. "What the actual..." "Contestant 00003, Gangtie Kuangchao!" In a flash, the entire venue erupted like a boiling cauldron. The members of the Machine Cult who had come specifically to spectate were flushed crimson with excitement. "Brother Kuangchao!" "The flesh is weak, the machine ascends!" "Toll the Great Bell thrice! Sing in unison, praise the Machine God!" *Boom!* *Boom!* The arena floor trembled faintly, sending plumes of dust kicking into the air. A towering, imposing suit of humanoid armor stood upon the earth, its metallic surface gleaming coldly beneath the sunlight, casting a massive, sweeping shadow. Its left arm housed an Arcane Lightning Elemental Cannon that crackled with blinding bursts of thunderous brilliance, while its right arm brandished a force-field shield built like a fortress wall. "Hahahahaha!" "In the name of the Sacred Binary—this championship belongs to our Machine Cult!" Through the transparent cockpit, the half-dragon Gangtie Kuangchao waved toward the crowd, an arrogant, unrestrained grin plastered across his face. As he shoved the control stick forward, dense exhaust billowed from behind the mechanized suit, accompanied by a deafening roar. Meanwhile, poor Luanshi Fusheng remained rooted to the spot, his mouth still hanging wide open. Only after a long while did his senses return, leaving him on the verge of tears. *Crash!* Every tactical plan, stamina allocation, and opponent analysis he had prepared shattered into a million pieces at that very moment. That Gundam-like suit of Arcane Armor practically reeked of exorbitant wealth and high technology. They weren't even existing in the same genre of reality. Luanshi Fusheng let out a bloodcurdling wail of despair: "How the fuck am I supposed to fight that?!"