By this time, all participating teams had arrived.
Beneath the grandstand on the north side of the arena, a squad of soldiers was approaching swiftly. They were dressed in distinctive uniforms that radiated an unmistakable aura of authority.
There were about five hundred of them—each one around thirty years old, their faces calm, their spirit power deep and restrained. Judging by the fluctuations of energy emanating from them, every one of these soldiers was at least a Soul King.
Their discipline was impeccable. As they marched, not a single sound was out of place—only the steady, rhythmic thud of synchronized footsteps. The sight of such perfect order was almost mesmerizing.
Zhu Ziyang's first impression was simple: these were the elite among elites.
The troops halted at the base of the grandstand. In the next moment, they fanned out swiftly like the ribs of an umbrella, forming a defensive perimeter that encircled the entire podium. Only fifty remained at the front, standing in neat rows at the base of the stairs.
And it was those fifty soldiers who revealed their true identity.
With a loud metallic clang, they transformed in unison—each soldier's armor unfolding, shifting, and merging into heavy weaponry until fifty soul tool turrets stood where they had been.
The eerie gleam of their cannon barrels sent chills through the crowd. Even spectators who were relatively close but lacked strong cultivation began to pale, trembling beneath the oppressive aura. These weren't ordinary soul tools—each was a Class Six fixed-mounted soul cannon, and the ten largest ones at the center were clearly Class Seven.
The remaining soldiers spread out, guarding the four corners of the grandstand. They, too, released their personal soul tools, arranging themselves into strange formation patterns. Zhu Ziyang couldn't decipher their exact purpose, but even a casual glance told him they were formidable.
A formation of Soul Kings could rival a Soul Sage, he thought. Is this the level of soul tool research the Sun Moon Empire has achieved? Remarkable indeed.
"The Sun Moon Imperial Soul Engineer Legion, one of the Empire's most elite armies," Zhu Ziyang murmured under his breath. "Truly worthy of its reputation."
The Sun Moon Empire's military consisted of ten major soul engineer legions. Among them, the five strongest were known as the Hands of the Nation's Protection: the Firewind Legion, the Terrorclaw Legion, the Evil Monarch Legion, the Imperial Dragon Legion, and the Royal Soul Engineer Legion—the mightiest of them all.
Each legion numbered around five hundred members. For regular legions, the minimum entry requirement was a three-ring Soul Elder or a Class Three soul engineer. But the five great protector legions demanded Soul Ancestors or Class Four soul engineers at minimum.
And the Royal Soul Engineer Legion went even further—only Soul Kings or Class Five soul engineers could qualify.
With standards that strict, their power was unquestionable. They also enjoyed the best privileges, and their responsibilities were the heaviest—guarding both Mingdu and the Sun Moon Imperial Palace.
In other words, for Zhu Ziyang and his allies—who had come to assassinate Xu Tianran—the Royal Soul Engineer Legion was their most immediate obstacle.
The Legion's commander was said to be a Class Nine soul engineer, answering directly to the Emperor himself. Their sudden arrival could only mean one thing: the Emperor—or someone of equal standing—was about to appear.
Sure enough, Zhu Ziyang soon spotted a grand royal procession approaching from afar.
A golden dragon chariot, drawn by thirty-two magnificent Horned Scale Horses, rolled slowly toward the grandstand, escorted by an array of guards and officials in ornate robes.
When the chariot stopped, two palace maids lifted the golden curtain embroidered with silver lotus patterns. From within, a wheelchair emerged—pushed by a stunning woman in imperial attire.
Seated in the wheelchair was a handsome young man with a calm, almost ethereal expression.
The moment Zhu Ziyang saw him, he knew who it was: the Crown Prince of the Sun Moon Empire, Xu Tianran.
A faint, sardonic smile curled at Zhu Ziyang's lips as he turned to Ma Xiaotao beside him. "Sister Xiaotao, the old emperor of the Sun Moon Empire—he's not dead yet, right?"
Ma Xiaotao nodded. "According to our intelligence, there's been no official announcement of the former emperor's death or a new emperor's coronation. So yes, the old emperor should still be alive."
"Hah," Zhu Ziyang chuckled. "Then this is quite something. The Crown Prince, riding the imperial dragon chariot? Xu Tianran, you're killing me with filial piety!"
The beautiful woman pushing Xu Tianran's wheelchair looked familiar. After a moment's thought, Zhu Ziyang remembered where he had seen her—Ju Zi, the Crown Princess of the Sun Moon Empire. The two had met once before.
The future War Goddess of the Empire, Zhu Ziyang mused. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. If she could be recruited, she'd be an excellent ally for Zhang Lexuan. Our ultimate goal is the unification of the continent, and that requires strong military leadership. Ju Zi's command abilities must be extraordinary for her to earn that title in the future.
The only question is—how deep is her bond with Xu Tianran?
Another familiar figure followed behind Ju Zi—Jing Hongchen, the Master of Mingde Hall and one of the most powerful men in the Sun Moon Empire, a Class Nine soul engineer in his own right.
"Greetings to the Regent Prince and the Regent Princess!"
At Xu Tianran and Ju Zi's appearance, every official present—save for the Royal Soul Engineer Legion standing guard—fell to their knees in unison, voices booming in respectful salute.
Regent Prince? Zhu Ziyang thought, his eyes narrowing. So the old emperor truly is still alive. Interesting… So what's Xu Tianran waiting for? Or could it be… he really is a devoted son?
Ju Zi pushed Xu Tianran toward a soul tool elevator, with Jing Hongchen and four elderly officials following close behind.
As the elevator rose, the crowd of citizens in Mingdu erupted into cheers.
The moment they saw their young Regent Prince, countless voices shouted in adoration. Whether the enthusiasm was genuine or staged didn't matter—on the surface, at least, Xu Tianran was beloved by the people.
His appearance marked the official beginning of the Continental Advanced Soul Master Elite Tournament.
Ju Zi pushed Xu Tianran to the center of the grandstand. She remained standing beside him instead of sitting, and seeing this, the breathless officials who had just climbed up also remained standing, not daring to rest.
Xu Tianran nodded slightly to Ju Zi. She stepped forward, stopping before a soul-powered amplification device to speak—but the roar of the crowd made it impossible for her to begin.
Then, suddenly, a deep, resonant voice rolled through the air like thunder:
"Silence!"
Instantly, the world seemed to darken. A crushing spiritual pressure descended over the entire area, suffocating all within its reach. The atmosphere grew so heavy it felt like molten lead. Even breathing became a struggle.
The enormous plain outside Mingdu fell silent. Not a sound could be heard.
"Heh, so it's Senior Uncle Long," Zhu Ziyang said with a soft chuckle. As soon as he spoke, the oppressive aura around him vanished.
The reserve members gasped for breath, eyes wide with fear and awe. Even among the main team, only Ning Tian appeared affected—while Jiang Nannan, Qian Lingyi, and Wu Huan'er stood perfectly calm.
With the tension dispersed, Ju Zi cleared her throat and began speaking, her voice clear and elegant as it echoed through the amplifiers.
"Citizens of the Sun Moon Empire, and honored guests from afar—on behalf of His Highness, the Regent Prince, I welcome you all.
"And now, on behalf of His Highness, I declare the Continental Advanced Soul Master Elite Tournament—officially open!"
Her speech was brief, but it ignited the crowd instantly. The once-silent arena erupted in cheers.
"Long live the Regent Prince! Long live! Long live!" thousands of voices shouted as one.
Xu Tianran's expression remained calm, his faint smile unchanged. The cheers of the people seemed to mean nothing to him. He merely raised a hand, gesturing for the ministers behind him to sit.
Only then did the trembling officials dare to take their seats.
At that moment, a new figure appeared beside Xu Tianran—an unfamiliar middle-aged man in a black robe trimmed with gold. He took the seat that should have belonged to Jing Hongchen. The Master of Mingde Hall could only grit his teeth and sit silently beside Ju Zi, his face pale with frustration.
Zhu Ziyang's eyes flickered the moment the man appeared. A knowing smile curved his lips.
"The Holy Spirit Church, is it?" he murmured softly.
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