The Behemoth King, the Golden Behemoth King Meng Wudi, was indeed the same one who had once fought a fierce battle against Yi Tianxing. He now sat upon his throne, his entire body seemingly forged from gold. His blood energy surged violently, golden light flickering from his form. Even with his eyes closed, his aura had clearly grown much stronger since their last encounter. Just looking at him was enough to make ordinary cultivators feel as though their eyes were burning.
It was blinding.
"So it's him. I didn't expect him to become this much stronger in such a short time. Truly, none of the top contenders can be underestimated. Given a chance, they become unimaginably powerful in no time."
Yi Tianxing's gaze turned solemn.He had fought this Golden Behemoth King before and was well aware of his previous strength. Compared to now, that strength was like night and day—worlds apart.
Golden Behemoth King Meng Wudi — Now radiating golden blood energy; his strength far surpasses their previous encounter.
"There—look at the sixth one. He's a prodigy from the Shadowfiend Clan, known as Ying Qiansha. That race belongs to the top-tier species. They are born with the innate ability to traverse shadows and are the most terrifying assassins, capable of killing powerful enemies across realms. Ying Qiansha is among the best of them. To fight against him… it's horrifying. You never know when your head might separate from your neck."
Xiaosa ge pointed at another figure on the throne, his body cloaked in darkness, as if made of shadow. He appeared vague and elusive, like a mirage. Looking at him gave one a strange, eerie feeling.
He looked unreal—almost nonexistent—yet the moment one glanced his way, it felt like a sword was suspended overhead, ready to strike at any second.
Ying Qiansha (Shadowfiend Clan) — Master of shadow assassination; can kill across realms, even slaying true dragons if prepared.
"If he fails to kill you once, he'll try again and again, until you're dead."
"The seventh one is remarkable too. He hails from the Celestial Spirit Clan and is named Ji Wuyun. This clan is legendary for their natural affinity to command heaven and earth energy. They wield the forces of nature with ease—moving mountains and splitting seas is mere child's play to them."
Hei Dashuai began introducing the seventh elite.
This top-tier Celestial Spirit prodigy radiated celestial light, shifting and dancing across his form. A soft immortal melody surrounded him, and his aura was transcendent—lofty, noble, and revered. Just looking at him evoked envy and admiration. His appearance and temperament were what many imagined immortals to be.
Ji Wuyun (Celestial Spirit Clan) — Naturally commands elemental forces and heaven-earth energy; peerless affinity with Daoist laws.
"The eighth is also formidable. He's from the Three-Eyed God Clan, and his name is Tong Ba. This race is born with a third divine eye, each with unique powers. These eyes can evolve terrifying eye-based divine abilities. Tong Ba is from Atlantis. To become one of the Heavenly Chosen Kings, he must be terrifyingly strong."
Xiaosa ge continued.
The eighth elite was indeed a three-eyed being. Though his divine eye was only slightly open, a sliver of light from it caused space itself to tremble, shielding his body. He sat calmly, like an immovable mountain, his aura no weaker than any of the others.
Tong Ba (Three-Eyed God Clan) — Possesses a barely-awakened divine eye; even half-open, it shakes space and guards his body.
"The ninth is just as impressive. He's from the Fallen Angel Clan, named Lu Baiyue. The Fallen Angels are said to have evolved from the Angelic Race. Though close in blood, one represents light and the other darkness—they are mortal enemies. When they meet, a battle is inevitable."
As Xiaosa ge and Hei Dashuai continued introducing the elite prodigies, the battlefield stirred.
The nine Heavenly Chosen sitting on the thrones were all exceptional—not only because of their identities and origins but also because their strength represented the supremacy of their respective races. Their very existence was an embodiment of potential beyond most others.
Every single one was acknowledged by those on the battlefield.
Many gazed toward Ling Mountain with fiery anticipation in their eyes.
In their hearts, a hope bloomed—one day, they too might sit on those thrones, basking in the admiration of all beings, revered by countless cultivators.
Unconsciously, Ling Mountain was now nearly full.
But there were certainly more hidden elites still lurking in the shadows—perhaps even more powerful than those already present. They had simply yet to reveal themselves, likely still observing.
Suddenly, the Stone Emperor lifted his eyes and looked over Ling Mountain.
He calmly spoke a single phrase:
"Where are the human elites?"
The voice echoed across Ling Mountain, spreading into the void.
A single sentence—yet it made Ling Mountain fall completely silent. The battlefield turned speechless.
Indeed…
Where are the human elites?
From the moment the feast was announced, all that had arrived were prodigies from various races—even the Kobold race had shown up. Yet not a single human elite had appeared.
It was as if the human race had no elites.
This one sentence sparked loud laughter from countless non-human cultivators. Their expressions twisted into sneers and scorn.
Meanwhile, human cultivators on the battlefield flushed with shame. Their faces burned as if slapped hundreds of times. They could hardly raise their heads or face the others.
Back when the Exquisite Fruit Banquet was announced, the Stone Emperor had specifically invited the human elites. And yet, not one had arrived. Meanwhile, the rest of the seats on Ling Mountain were nearly filled. Even if a human elite came now, there might not even be a seat left.
"Aside from the sealed immortals, the remaining humans are just ants—those discarded by their own kind. Such weaklings could never produce true elites. And even if one did exist, they're clearly too cowardly to show their face."
"Humans? Pfft. Probably used some underhanded trick to steal the top spot on the rankings. Now they're too ashamed to appear, knowing they can't back it up."
"Does the human race even have elites? If they do, I challenge them right now. If any dare show up, I'll bet my name—Shu Youdan (Mouse With Guts)—that they won't last. Let's see who's truly spineless."
A mouse-faced elite on Ling Mountain, twirling his whiskers and puffing up arrogantly, scoffed.
What "gutless rodents"? They—the Mousemen—had more courage than any human. That much, Shu Youdan was certain.
He was confident that even if human elites were nearby, they wouldn't dare appear. Too many prodigies were waiting to humiliate them.
Humans had held the top spot on the Primordial Myriad Spirit Rankings for three months now—and still, no one had dethroned them. That fact alone stirred great resentment and fury among other races.
The elites on Ling Mountain were not just representatives of their clans—they were their clans' will.
And now, every face was filled with contempt toward the human race.
Faced with their ridicule and mockery, all the human cultivators in the battlefield turned pale—then flushed red. It was unbearable.
Every race had sent representatives. Only humans were absent. The shame was suffocating.
"Damn those outsiders! Could it really be true that we humans have no elite brave enough to climb Ling Mountain? What a disgrace! If I'd known, I would have gone myself—even if it meant death. That would've been better than this shame!"
"I don't believe it! Our human race must have elite warriors! When we entered this battlefield, we had already put life and death behind us. How could we fear mere ridicule? Even if we died on Ling Mountain, we would be heroes—our names eternal in human history!"
"Where are our elites!? Are we to be mocked by a race of rodents?! This is an outrage—a humiliation unlike any other!"
Across the battlefield, human cultivators roared to the skies, their voices trembling with rage.
This was the call of their bloodline. The roar of the unconquered.
They longed to charge up Ling Mountain and spill human blood upon its stones—to show all races that the human race is no coward, and we do have our elites.
Even if it's just one—let there be one!
"Why hasn't our king shown up yet…"Cheng Yaojin, standing on the city walls, clenched his fists. The fire in his eyes burned hot, ready to explode.
To insult the human race was to insult every single human cultivator on the battlefield. Their pride, their bloodline, their honor—all were one.
"Since our king left, he would never back down. I believe—no, I know—our human elite is there… watching… waiting. The others are trying to provoke us, but they don't realize…"
Jia Xu spoke calmly, his gaze cold.
"When the human race rises, it will shake all heaven and earth."