### Chapter 43: You're No Match for Me!
Steward Zhang's heart raced as the disciples drew their tokens. He prayed silently—*please let the last token be marked "Five"*. Nine disciples had drawn, leaving one token in the box. If it read "One," Lin Yi would be disqualified by default.
The scribe called out the matchups, but Steward Zhang barely listened. His gaze was fixed on the mountain path, where Lin Yi still hadn't appeared. Despair gnawed at him. *Has he really given up?*
The first match began: two Third Level Qi Refinement disciples, their spells clashing in bursts of light. The crowd roared as one shattered the other's shield with a fireball, only to be countered by water arrows. It was a gritty, back-and-forth battle—exactly what the spectators craved.
These finalists were no slouches. Each had clawed their way here, armed with rare talismans, forbidden techniques, or pinpoint control over their spiritual energy. For outer disciples, where resources were scarce, every advantage counted. A single lucky strike could mean the difference between inner sect glory and another three years of drudgery.
After two incense sticks' worth of fighting, the first match ended. The winner collapsed, bleeding and exhausted, but grinning—he'd earned his shot at the inner sect.
"The second match: Yu Wu vs. Lin Yi!" the scribe shouted.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Lin Yi was still missing.
"Just declare Yu Wu the winner," Elder Huo snapped. "This farce has gone on long enough."
Steward Zhang's shoulders slumped. He'd held out hope, but…
Elder Guan sighed. "Very well. The second match—"
*"I'm here."*
The words were calm, almost casual, but they cut through the noise like a blade. Every head turned toward the mountain path.
There he was: Lin Yi, striding up the stone steps, his posture relaxed, hands clasped behind his back. He moved with a fluid speed that made the distance shrink—one moment he was at the bottom of the path, the next he stood in the arena, dusting off his sleeves.
He glanced at Mu Rongfeng, his eyes cold as steel, then nodded at Steward Zhang, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Steward Zhang let out a whoop, half-curse, half-relief. "That damn brat! He's actually here!"
Mu Rongfeng froze, his face draining of color. *Impossible. Lord Luo said the needles were fatal.* Panic flickered in his eyes before he masked it with a scowl.
Yu Wu paled. A无形 pressure rolled off Lin Yi, heavy as a boulder, making his legs tremble. He'd dreamed of an easy win, but now his skin prickled with dread.
Mu Rongfeng's神识 shot out, probing Lin Yi's aura. His breath hitched. *Fifth Level of Qi Refinement.* Not Fourth—*Fifth*. How? He'd stagnated at Fourth for five years; Lin Yi had leapfrogged him in months.
Lin Yi, meanwhile, had long since mastered the *Five Spirits Body Tempering Technique*, which let him gauge others' cultivation with uncanny accuracy. He'd known the hunchbacked man was a Foundation Establishment cultivator that night—why he'd fled, despite the risk.
The crowd buzzed, still reeling from Lin Yi's sudden appearance. No one noticed the subtle shift in his aura—no one but Mu Rongfeng.
"The match begins!" the scribe喊道, jolted from his stupor.
"Please赐教," Yu Wu managed, forcing a bow. His hands shook.
Lin Yi met his gaze, voice flat. "You're no match for me. Surrender."
Gasps erupted. A Fourth Level (as they still thought) telling a Third Level to surrender outright? Arrogance didn't begin to describe it.
Steward Zhang chuckled, shaking his head. *That's the Lin Yi I know—no filter.*
Yu Wu flushed, anger overriding his fear. "You may be Fourth Level, but I've fought harder than you can imagine! Don't think I'll roll over that easily!"
From the sidelines, Pan Yu arrived, breathless, his face lit up like a torch. "Senior Brother!" he cheered, ignoring the stares.
The two messengers who'd failed to find Lin Yi exchanged glances, scowling. *Cocky bastard*, they thought.
Lin Yi didn't flinch. He stood there, calm as ever, waiting.
The arena held its breath. Would Yu Wu back down? Or would pride push him to fight?
For Lin Yi, it was simple. He'd wasted enough time recovering from the Netherworld Needles. He wanted this over—so he could face Mu Rongfeng, and then the core disciples.
Yu Wu's jaw tightened. He'd come too far to quit now. He reached for his storage bag, fingers closing around a fire talisman.
"Have it your way," Lin Yi said, sighing.
The match was about to begin. And no one—not even Mu Rongfeng—knew just how devastating Lin Yi's strength had become.