A week is given after the third stage, and Merin spends it quietly in his room.

He would have stayed longer in seclusion, but with only hours left before the next round, he steps onto the stage once more.

From the ten thousand that began, fewer than a thousand remain.

The fourth stage is announced: from broken array bases, build a complete top-ranked array base. Each participant will choose their broken bases according to rank, and their work will be judged by a ten-star Array Master.

Merin is ranked 957—barely above the last at 964—and as always, no one places a bet on him.

Before the test begins, a judge addresses the crowd, his voice steady and clear.

“You will be scored based on two factors—the time it takes you to complete the task, and the difficulty of the base you construct. The more broken array bases you use, the higher the score you may receive.”

After a brief silence, he continues, “You have six hours. Begin.”

Merin remains calm, pondering how many fragments to choose.

Winning the tournament means little to him; his true goal is to pass all seven stages and secure his place as a core member of the Array Association.

When his turn arrives, he steps forward and calmly selects five broken array bases.

The choice stirs immediate commotion in the stands, for only those ranked in the top hundred dare attempt so many fragments—and even they rarely pick more than this.

The moment Merin chooses five broken bases, murmurs ripple through the stands like a sudden wave.

“Five? Did I see wrong?” someone blurts out, leaning forward.

“He’s ranked nine hundred and fifty-seven. Even top-hundred contenders don’t casually take five!” another scoffs.

A few burst into laughter, shaking their heads. “He’s courting death. With his rank, he’ll be lucky to finish even one complete base.”

But others squint, uneasy. “Either he’s a fool, or he’s about to reveal his real skill.”

On the judges’ platform, several Array Masters exchange glances, their expressions shifting from boredom to mild surprise.

The presiding judge strokes his beard and mutters, “Interesting. He doesn’t look reckless… let’s see if this one is hiding his fangs.”

Another judge chuckles. “I thought he would continue hiding his ability.” The Saint-rank judges don’t find it strange— with their experience and eyesight, they can tell Merin was deliberately holding back.

Up in the private stands, Meng Ji narrows his eyes as he watches the commotion.

“Strange,” he says quietly to Xiao Yun. “With his rank, he should be cautious—yet he dares to pick five. If he fails, he’ll be eliminated outright.”

His gaze lingers on Merin’s calm figure. “Unless… he’s been concealing his true skill this entire time.”

The crowd continues to buzz, half mocking, half intrigued, as all eyes turn to the lone figure who dares challenge the impossible from the bottom ranks.

Merin ignores the noise, his expression steady as he carries the five broken bases to his station.

He doesn’t care about their reaction—he is too old to care.

Stolen novel; please report.

The fragments he selects are all of barrier type: Water, Fire, Wood, Earth, and Metal.

With his understanding of the five-element rules, arranging them is not very difficult.

Where others fumble with simpler fragments, he studies each with practised calm, waiting for the judges’ signal.

When the word *start* echoes, his fingers brush the engraved runes as though listening to their faint echoes.

The crowd grows louder, cheering for some, booing others, their noise crashing like waves, but he doesn’t spare them a glance.

With precise motions, he begins aligning the first base, threads of spiritual energy weaving through his fingertips like strands of water drawn into order.

A spectator leans forward, frowning. “Wait… his movements—they’re too smooth.”

Another shakes his head. “Impossible. That’s just the opening. The real difficulty is linking the fragments together.”

On the judges’ platform, the presiding judge leans closer, his eyes narrowing. “No hesitation. His foundation is solid.”

Xiao Yun watches in silence, lips curving into a faint smile. “He’s still the same as before. He hides until the right moment… then shocks everyone.”

Meng Ji exhales sharply. “If he succeeds with five, he will surely enter the top hundred—and even if he doesn’t pass the next stage, major families will vie for him.”

Hourglasses turn, marking the passage of time, while Merin’s hands move with growing momentum.

One base stabilises.

Then another.

After stabilising all five bases, Merin’s hands move with unwavering confidence as he begins linking them together.

The fragments resonate one after another until the final connection snaps into place.

A blinding radiance erupts.

The completed array base shines with multicoloured light, its aura surpassing that of a top-rank array, stepping into the realm of a true master array.

Gasps ripple across the arena.

And Merin finishes half an hour before the time limit.

When the judges finish scoring the remaining three hundred candidates, a name is announced:

“Lin Ye — rank twenty-seven.”

The crowd erupts.

Some cheer in admiration, others collapse in despair.

Many had bet against him, confident he would fail. The odds were heavily stacked—ten to one.

Those gamblers now gnash their teeth, cursing their loss.

Meanwhile, the few who placed their faith in him exploded with joy, celebrating their winnings multiplied tenfold.

Among them, Xiao Yun calmly pockets ten high-ranking spiritual stones, his smile faint but satisfied.

Merin, walking off the stage, sighs inwardly.

He thinks to himself that he should have bet on his own success, but participants are forbidden to gamble.

Perhaps next time, he muses, he should find someone trustworthy to place wagers for him.

Behind him, at a distance, Xiao Yun and Meng Ji’s gazes follow Lin Ye’s retreating figure.

Meng Ji narrows his eyes. “He’s being targeted. Should we intervene?”

Xiao Yun’s expression remains unreadable, his tone flat. “Let’s see his strength first. If he lacks the ability, joining us will only mean his death.”

Yet in the depths of his eyes, curiosity flickers.

More than twenty years have passed—there’s no way Lin Ye should still be only at First Turn Dao Casting.

Back in his room, Merin sits in silence, thoughts heavy.

Tonight, he knows, he will not be able to rest easily.

The next morning, the innkeeper and servants hesitate at his door.

Every competition brings death—successful candidates slain by rivals, assassins, or greedy hunters when they lack the strength to protect themselves.

Their hands hover at the door, faces pale, until a calm voice inside says, “Come in.”

They sigh in relief.

If a candidate died inside their inn, it would be a stain on their name, yet they are too small to stop such things.

When the door opens, they freeze.

More than twenty bodies lie cold across the floor, not a single wound upon them.

On the bed, Master Lin Ye sits cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation.

“Take them away,” Merin says softly.

The innkeeper forces a smile, nodding quickly. “Move them, hurry!”

Servants drag the corpses outside one by one.

Afterwards, the innkeeper lingers nervously. “Sir, do you require anything else?”

Merin doesn’t open his eyes. His whisper is cold. “Get out.”

The innkeeper flees.

Outside, a crowd gathers to watch.

Whispers ripple as the bodies are carried into the street.

Someone kicks one, hoping for a reaction. None comes.

“They’re dead,” a voice mutters.

A hush falls.

No wounds, no blood—just lifeless shells.

At the edge of the crowd, Xiao Yun watches silently.

His brows draw together. *I thought Lin Ye specialised in lightning… When did he gain the power of the mind?*

Before the fifth competition begins, Merin completes his comprehension of the composition and structure of spiritual energy.

But there is no time to alter his acupoint space.

He steps into the arena once again.

The fifth competition ends with his victory.

His rank rises to ninth.

When the competition concludes, representatives of countless families and forces swarm forward, eager to win his attention.

He ignores them all.

Returning to his room, he sits cross-legged.

With steady breath, he begins transforming the low-rank elemental spiritual stones within his acupoint space into intermediate stones.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep