The Ruthless Emperor: Eldenvale

The crowd buzzed with anticipation as Wu Tianjue stepped forward. All eyes were locked on him as he moved toward the altar, a towering stone monument that displayed the rankings of the core disciples in bold golden script.

Each name on the altar was accompanied by their cultivation realm, a mark of their strength. At the top, engraved in shining letters, was the name that commanded the utmost respect in the school: Yan Zhiming.

He was rank 1, the pinnacle of the School of Talent, and the only disciple to have reached the Spirit Severing stage. His name alone carried the weight of dominance, and his presence inspired both awe and fear. Below him, the rankings listed other prodigies, all in the Nascent Soul stage.

Wu Tianjue's gaze swept across the altar, his expression calm but calculating.

The crowd murmured in excitement, their voices a mix of curiosity and speculation.

"Who will he choose?"

"Rank 1? No, that's insane. Even Yan Junhao wouldn't dare."

"Maybe Rank 2, Ling Tianyu. He's strong but not invincible."

"Does it even matter? Didn't you see how he defeated Yan Junhao? Whoever he picks is doomed."

The elder overseeing the test smirked slightly, his hands behind his back as he observed Wu Tianjue's movements. The young man's fame had grown wildly in the past few months, and this was the moment to see if he could truly live up to it.

Standing before the altar, Wu Tianjue's eyes rested on Yan Zhiming's name. He studied it for a moment, his mind weighing the possibilities. The Spirit Severing stage was leagues beyond Nascent Soul; it represented a qualitative change in power. The temptation to test himself against the best was undeniable.

But another thought cut through his ambition: Practicality.

The position of core disciple was his immediate goal, and challenging Yan Zhiming now was unnecessary. The smarter move was to rise through the ranks strategically.

His gaze shifted down to the second name: Ling Tianyu, Rank 2. A Nascent Soul cultivator, and an excellent benchmark for his current strength.

"Rank 2," Wu Tianjue said aloud, or at least, he tried to.

The words refused to leave his mouth.

His lips moved, and his vocal cords strained, but no sound emerged. For a moment, his expression shifted from calm indifference to confusion.

He coughed instinctively, and the sound echoed clearly through the arena. Yet, when he tried again to speak the words "Rank 2," silence followed.

The crowd noticed his hesitation, their murmurs growing louder.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Is he scared? Maybe he realizes Ling Tianyu is too strong."

"Impossible! Wu Tianjue doesn't seem like the type to hesitate."

Wu Tianjue furrowed his brow, a flicker of discomfort crossing his usually emotionless face. Something was wrong. His body was functioning normally, but it was as if an invisible force blocked him from speaking those specific words.

He focused inward, attempting to channel his inner energy to clear any potential blockages, but his efforts proved fruitless. The sensation was entirely foreign, no illness, no curse, just an inexplicable silence.

How strange, he thought. Is this some kind of trick?

Deciding not to dwell on it further, he moved to the next option. His eyes landed on the name beneath Ling Tianyu: Rank 3, Han Qingshan.

He opened his mouth again, this time calling out, "Rank 3!"

The words echoed clearly, reverberating through the arena.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

"He chose Rank 3?"

"Han Qingshan isn't weak by any means, but why skip Rank 2?"

"Maybe he's playing it safe."

"Safe? Did you see him toss Yan Junhao like a sack of rice? He doesn't need to play it safe."

Wu Tianjue's gaze remained steady as he stepped back, his thoughts whirling beneath the surface. The strange occurrence with his voice lingered in his mind, an unsettling mystery he would investigate later. For now, his focus shifted to the challenge at hand.

The elder raised his hand, his voice booming across the arena. "Wu Tianjue has chosen Rank 3, Han Qingshan. Prepare for the duel!"

Han Qingshan stepped forward, his demeanor calm but sharp. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with an air of experience and confidence. His Nascent Soul cultivation pulsed faintly around him, a sign of his mastery and control.

"It seems I've been chosen," Qingshan said, his tone neutral yet firm. He bowed slightly toward Wu Tianjue, a gesture of respect. "I will not hold back."

Wu Tianjue inclined his head slightly but said nothing. His indifference, cold and unwavering, only added to the tension.

The arena buzzed with energy as the crowd leaned forward, eager to witness the battle.

"Han Qingshan is one of the most skilled core disciples."

"He's famous for his precision and technique. This won't be an easy fight for Wu Tianjue."

"Let's see if that single-finger victory was a fluke or the real deal."

As the elder signaled for the duel to begin, Wu Tianjue stepped into the arena, his movements slow and deliberate.

Han Qingshan drew his weapon, a gleaming spear that hummed faintly with spiritual energy. He spun it expertly, its sharp edge slicing through the air. His stance was firm, his gaze unwavering.

"I respect your strength," Qingshan said, his voice steady. "But I will not lose."

Wu Tianjue merely raised an eyebrow, his hands remaining at his sides. His stance was casual, almost dismissive.

Qingshan's expression hardened. With a roar, he lunged forward, his spear piercing through the air with lightning speed.

The crowd held their breath, the clash about to begin.