"I definitely came out ahead on this one."

He stood up, all distracting thoughts vanishing. His mind was now a clear, empty vessel, filled with nothing but pure battle intent for the next day’s fight.

The Canaan Newcomer Cup. Third place.

Three thousand Contribution Points.

He was determined to win.

-----------------

As the first faint light of dawn filtered through the specialized one-way porthole of his private dorm, it cast a pale golden sheen across the cold, quiet room. Qin Feng had already concluded his all-night Meditation.

The somewhat stagnant aura from his three years of seclusion had now completely transformed into a battle intent that was both restrained and majestic, soaring to the heavens.

His mind was clear, his thoughts unimpeded.

He rose and stretched his limbs, and a series of low pops, like muffled thunder, echoed from his bones.

Within his seemingly unassuming frame lay a terrifying power capable of shaking mountains.

"Hammer, teleport to the Canaan Newcomer Cup, Level 4 Martial Artist sector, entrance A-32."

"Command confirmed. Calculating optimal teleportation route... Route locked. Teleportation will commence in three seconds."

Along with the cold, electronic voice, a soft white light enveloped Qin Feng’s figure.

The scene before him blurred. The next moment, as his feet touched solid ground once more, a terrifying wall of sound slammed into his eardrums. It felt as if it could overturn the very stars, a chaotic mix of the emotions of billions.

Even with Qin Feng’s rock-solid will, he couldn’t help but feel dazed for a moment.

He found himself standing on a ring-shaped platform made of pure white alloy, suspended in mid-air.

Beyond the platform lay a scene so vast and majestic that words seemed utterly inadequate to describe it.

This was the main arena for the Canaan Newcomer Cup—the Glory Colosseum.

It didn’t look like a man-made structure, but more like a massive moon that had been hollowed out and reshaped by the awesome power of a deity.

Looking up, the ceiling wasn’t the sky but a colossal, seemingly boundless Energy Dome that radiated a soft glow.

The light flowed slowly, simulating the path of a star. One could even see floating clouds and soaring birds projected upon it by Spiritual Energy, so lifelike it was impossible to tell if they were real or fake.

Looking down revealed a vast, bottomless space. Countless standard-square arenas, each with sides over a kilometer long, were suspended uniformly in the void like squares on a chessboard, their numbers so great that one could not see the end of them.

Each arena was enveloped by a powerful energy shield, visible to the naked eye as a shimmering, pale blue halo. Countless intricate runes flowed across its surface, emitting heart-stopping Energy Fluctuations.

Between these arenas, upperclassmen in the standard-issue referee uniforms of Cannan Star Martial Arts University patrolled their respective sectors. Like circling hawks, they stood on anti-gravity discs, gliding slowly through the air.

Their auras were profound and their gazes sharp; every single one of them was a powerful Martial Artist of at least Level 7. ’They must have accepted volunteer missions.’

Beyond this forest-like matrix of steel arenas were the spectator stands, rising tier upon tier, encircling the entire colosseum.

It was a veritable ocean of spectators, with hundreds of millions of seats creating a vista like a rolling mountain range.

Every seat had been meticulously designed and placed to ensure an optimal viewing experience.

Next to the armrest of each seat was a small, sophisticated, built-in Holographic Spectator Device.

Spectators could use it at any time to switch their viewpoint to any arena where a fierce battle was underway, and even activate professional viewing functions like energy-trajectory analysis.

At this moment, the massive stands, capable of holding tens of millions of spectators, were completely packed. Not a single seat was empty!

The clamor of voices, discussions, and cheers, combined with the immense vital energy and Mental Power unconsciously radiated by countless Martial Artists, merged into a scorching, almost tangible tide of fanaticism. It surged and crashed throughout the magnificent colosseum, making everyone present feel their blood race and their battle intent ignite.

This was Cannan Star Martial Arts University.

This was the decennial grand event of the Empire’s most elite Martial Arts Sacred Land!

Qin Feng followed the designated gravity guide rail and quickly found his seat.

It was in the middle tier of the spectator stands, an area with an excellent view.

Xiong Yanfu, Lei Meng, Tiemu, and Shi Potian were already waiting there.

"Boss, over here!"

Lei Meng spotted Qin Feng at once and excitedly waved his thick arm.

Qin Feng walked over and sat down in the empty seat they had saved for him.

He had just settled in when he felt a few familiar gazes on him from not far away.

He turned his head and saw two striking figures a few rows diagonally behind him, looking at him with pleasant surprise.

It was Qin Lan and Yin Jing.

It seemed they hadn’t expected to run into Qin Feng here either. After a brief moment of eye contact, the two whispered something to their companions, then stood up and walked directly over to Qin Feng’s group.

"You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?"

A bright smile graced Qin Lan’s face. She was wearing a fiery red, form-fitting Combat Suit today, which perfectly accentuated her stunning figure.

As she spoke, her eyes subtly sized up Qin Feng, her bright pupils filled with curiosity and inquisitiveness.

"Of course not! Qin Lan, Yin Jing, please, have a seat."

Xiong Yanfu immediately and enthusiastically welcomed them, nudging Lei Meng to scoot over and make room for the two women.