Luo Fancheng's roar stirred no waves; it passed without a trace. Soon enough, the preliminary selection for the Marriage Contest began.
No embellishments, no pomp—a straightforward contest of raw strength. One simple rule: if you have the ability, step forward. Win, and you draw closer to the goddess; lose, and you're left to admire her from afar.
Those assembled had come well-prepared, not a single one hesitant. Even the weakest among them possessed the strength of a warrior of the king's realm; the strongest had reached the level of a saint. But even the most formidable among them were only background figures—for what they faced was an opponent of unparalleled prowess.
When the results of the first round were revealed, everyone was stunned.
"Who is this 'Fan Luo'? He managed to outshine even Qian Mingxuan of the Qian family in the first round!"
"Never heard of him! Probably some peasant who crawled out of nowhere. Doesn't matter, though. In the end, the real victors will still be the heirs of established families."
"He may have won some fame today, but even if he fails to win the goddess's heart, he won't have to worry about his livelihood again."
"Seems like hard work can change one's fate. Damn it, when I get back, I'm going to try my luck in those forbidden lands! If I succeed, we'll meet again at the summit. If I fail…"
"Look, there's someone placing bets! This guy's odds are sky-high!"
Overhearing the crowd's chatter, Luo Fancheng smiled. Yes, 'Fan Luo' was his alias.
"Is that all it takes to surprise them? Clearly, they haven't seen much."
"The real show has only just begun."
This time, he wasn't boasting. Round after round, he demonstrated an overwhelming strength. In the first elimination, he struck down a prospective saint with a single blow; in the next, he subdued a saint's peak disciple with three moves. In the third round, he defeated Yuan Shijie, a scion backed by an immortal force, with a direct confrontation.
They were left dumbfounded. On the stage, Fan Luo stood tall, unshaken in the wind, as if untouched by his victory.
Moments earlier, Yuan Shijie had even drawn upon his imperial weapon. Yet, even so, he'd gained no advantage.
As onlookers watched in awe, Yuan Shijie steadied himself and called out, "Who are you, truly?"
Unlike the crowd, Yuan Shijie could tell that this man was no mere commoner. After all, what peasant could wield an imperial-grade technique and don imperial-grade armor?
Fan Luo, however, offered no answer. With the air of a victor, he merely glanced at Yuan Shijie, then leapt down from the stage.
"Damn it, what are you so smug about?" Yuan Shijie shouted. "It was only a narrow victory!"
"You wait—I'll tear through the revival rounds! We'll meet again!"
...
Ninety-nine floors up, in the Star-Peak Pavilion, a room with an unparalleled view was packed. The handful who'd slipped in through 'connections' had gathered here.
"That guy, Fan Luo—he must be someone we know."
"Looks like that kid from the Yu family, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, you might be right. But if that's the case, why disguise himself? Wouldn't it be easier to show his true face?"
"Probably just showing off."
Listening to their chatter, Cao Wenbin chuckled as he toyed with the young phoenix, Shifeng. Watching others speculate cluelessly was, in a way, quite amusing.
In truth, Cao Wenbin had seen through the disguise the moment Fan Luo appeared. Yes, it was a convincing transformation; his appearance and aura had changed greatly, even his height increased by three centimeters.
But so what? As long as your fate remains unaltered, you can't escape Cao Wenbin's discerning eye.
"Competing for your own aunt's hand under an alias… Now that's talent!" Cao Wenbin mused. "Unexpectedly, he's another Wucheng Gan!"
He shook his head, then resumed playing with Shifeng. He had heard from Long Zimei the previous day that interacting more with Shifeng would help her quickly shed the mysteries of her infancy.
At first, he hadn't believed it. If that were true, surely Shifeng would have mentioned it before she entered her rebirth. Yet, judging by the current results, it seemed the method was indeed effective. After just one night, the little bird was noticeably livelier, no longer as prone to sleepiness.
"Forgetfulness truly comes with a fuller chest," he muttered wryly. But despite his jesting, he didn't stop his efforts. After all, he had long coveted the prize for second place, and he was eager to flaunt his achievement at the ancestral grounds on the mountain's far side.
So, Cao Wenbin continued to amuse Shifeng until the end of the preliminary rounds.
...
With a creak, the doors opened, and six young men who had emerged victorious stood before Cao Wenbin. Among them, without surprise, were Luo Fancheng, Qian Mingxuan, and Yuan Shijie.
As Cao Wenbin observed them, Zhang Zongze, who had entered alongside the group, slowly began to speak.
"Now that everyone is here, let's commence the final trial," Zhang Zongze announced. "Anyone who claims victory will be the holy maiden's betrothed. They will also earn our Church's enduring friendship."
Everyone was taken aback, surprise filling their expressions.
"Here? Won't we be too restricted?"
"With our power, it would only take a couple of moves to bring this whole building down."
Zhang Zongze smiled faintly. "Why would we resort to fighting?"
"We are well aware of each contestant's capabilities. While there are disparities in strength, they're not vast."
"Thus, the holy maiden has decreed that the final round will be a test of wit."
"Firstly, to avoid needless conflict."
"And secondly, to ensure that the holy maiden isn't wed to a coarse individual."
Everyone was even more bewildered.
A test of wit?
In the world of immortal cultivation, where the strongest fists hold sway, they were really suggesting a contest of intellect?
What they didn't know was that this scheme was something Zhang Zongze had devised after days of contemplation, precisely to guarantee Cao Wenbin's victory.
After all, in matters of intellect, unlike martial prowess, there could be no absolute ranking. When competing on a scholarly field, there was far more room for maneuvering. Just a slight shift in interpretation…
"What's wrong? Are you fine gentlemen lacking in confidence?" he asked, knowing they would take the bait.
Young men, naturally, can't stand being provoked. So those who'd been inclined to speak up fell silent. After all, to press the issue now would be to admit they were unprepared.
Retreating before the battle would mean defeat before it had even begun.
And so—
"Who said anything about doubt? I've got confidence to spare!"
"The holy maiden is truly remarkable. Even her choice of contest reflects her wisdom!"
...