Arena Number Ten became strangely silent.
The wind blowing through the stands seemed to carry away every voice, every conversation, every murmur that had once filled the air.
What had previously been the constant buzz of eager spectators had now transformed into an almost tangible anticipation, a silence laden with curiosity and speculation.
Even before the match began, dozens of gazes remained fixed on the young man in purple robes who waited calmly beside the platform.
His violet eyes were focused on the arena, but his mind was elsewhere, mentally preparing himself to use his third dantian.
The reason for so much attention was simple.
Sun Luguo.
The greatest blacksmith of the Sky Caravan remained seated in the stands, his enormous body occupying nearly three ordinary seats.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and a satisfied smile rested on his lips. He made no effort to hide himself or disguise his presence. He was there to watch, and he wanted everyone to know it.
