Eternal life begins with saving my clan

The martial stage hummed with the clash of steel and the guttural cries of the younger generation.

Disciples, honed by the rigorous training of their chosen clans, unleashed a whirlwind of techniques upon one another.

Yet, no victor had emerged; no one had reached ten straight wins in this brutal ballet of blades.

The closest contender, a woman in her mid-twenties, had danced through four matches with the grace of a viper and the ferocity of a tigress.

But in her fifth, her Qi, the lifeblood of her power, waned, leaving her vulnerable.

Her opponent, a hulking brute, capitalized on her exhaustion, sending her flying with a final, resounding blow.

The other disciples fared no better. Many fell in their first encounter, their youthful bravado shattered against the cold reality of combat.

As the day wore on, the air thickened with desperation, the playful sparring of the morning morphing into a desperate struggle for survival.

Attacks, once hesitant, became lightning strikes, each blow a potential death knell.

High above, in the elders' pavilions, a different kind of tension crackled. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, they watched their students dance on the precipice of victory and defeat.

Every parry, every feint, was a testament to their rigorous training, a flicker of pride battling the gnawing worry for their fledgling warriors.

Suddenly, a young man, seemingly as thin as a reed but wielding a blade as wide as his torso, burst onto the stage.

His attacks, fueled by raw power, sent his opponent flying like a ragdoll. His victory streak, a testament to his brute strength, mounted.

With each win, the cheers of the crowd grew louder, a crescendo of admiration and fear.

But the young man pressed on, his body a canvas of bruises, his breaths ragged gasps. He reached the ninth match, a feat no one had accomplished before him.

The training ground fell silent, a collective breath held in anticipation.

Could he defy the odds?

Could he be the first to reach the legendary tenth win?

His final opponent, a spear-wielding shadow, entered the stage with a quiet intensity. No words were exchanged, only the glint of steel and the simmering fury in their eyes.

The ensuing battle was a whirlwind of offense, each attack a desperate gamble for dominance.

The young man, fueled by the roar of the crowd, pressed forward, his every strike a testament to his unyielding will.

His opponent, a master of precision and cunning, countered with deadly grace, his spear a viper, weaving through the storm of the young man's blade.

The dance was brutal, beautiful, and teetered on the edge of oblivion.

Would the young man's iron will triumph? Or would the spear-wielder extinguish his flame?

The answer, poised on a razor's edge, hung heavy in the air, waiting to be revealed.

They didn't have to wait when the thin man did something that no one expected. He used his body as a weapon to receive an attack, allowing his opponent to be defenseless.

Though he was in pain with the spear lodged in his waist, he didn't hesitate to send his opponent flying out of the stage.

Realizing his gamble had paid off, he fell on his knee, gasping for air. Despite his pain, a bright smile crept to his face. He did it.

"Congratulations," Aiguo said from his seat.

The thin man looked at him for a couple of seconds and didn't know how to react. He was far older than them, and receiving congratulations from him felt uncomfortable. Still, he nodded and left the stage to treat his injury.

With the thin man setting the pace, the following battle was even more deadly. Many people with five straight wins appeared one after the other, but none got close to the thin man.

Not long after, the second person with a ten straight winning streak. It was a beautiful woman. Each of her attacks was graceful and deadly.

Her weapon was a twin dagger which she had mastered to a considerate degree.

With two people with ten winning streaks, the blood of the disciples burned in anticipation and nervousness.

Cao Bohai stood with his long sword and jumped to the stage. His body buzzed with confidence and pride. He looked at the people, waiting for his first opponent.

However, no one dared to challenge. Watching this, the elders chuckled in excitement. Cao Bohai was almost a Foundation Building realm, who in his right senses would challenge him.

"I think Bohai should leave the stage for the others. He's unmatched," an elder said confidently.

"You're right. This is just a waste of time," another chimed in.

"Really?" Cao Meng looked at the elders with a slight frown on her face. "Why are you so proud of his measly strength? Have you forgotten the presence who you are?"

Instantly, all the elders shut their mouths. They wanted to refute her, but there was nothing for them to speak.

"He's almost the same age as me, and yet he was prideful. Ye Zhen was already a Foundation Building realm before he was killed. Where did he get the face to be prideful?" Cao Meng didn't mince her words at all.

On the stage, Cao Bohai heard Cao Meng's words and the expression on his face. He was furious and bit the edge of his lips.

'This wench! You're just lucky that your father was the previous clan master and the clan resources were focused on you. If not, you would be among us right now.'

Though he was furious, he controlled his expression and didn't utter a word. Watching the competition taking another turn, Ai stood from her seat and said.

"If you can't win him single-handedly, partner with a person to defeat him. The team that defeats him would face each other to decide the winner between them."

With her announcement, the disciples had bright smiles on their faces. Even though they were wary of Cao Bohai, they believed they could win effortlessly.

While the disciples were pairing with each other, Cao Bohai had an unsightly expression on his face. He didn't expect the little girl would come up with such absurd rules.