Liu, the City Lord, took note of the state his five representatives were in. He was already used to seeing participants disheartened before the Hundred City Tournament began—but Fang Hao's composure stood out, prompting Liu to give him a second glance.

"Let's go. We'll be taking a flying vessel from the palace gates."

Just as they stepped out of the inn, a sly, mocking voice came from behind:

"Liu brother, you see an old friend and don't even say hello?"

A middle-aged man in gray robes approached, smiling faintly. Behind him were five young cultivators, clearly the elite of his city.

It was another City Lord, bringing his city's participants to the tournament.

Liu replied with cold indifference:

"So it's City Lord Wang."

He made no effort to hide his disinterest. Wang didn't seem to care—he'd grown used to it. After glancing at Wu Yuqi's group, he sneered:

"Tsk tsk, Qilan City really gets weaker each year. These kids came here to participate? That's basically a death sentence."

Liu didn't even look back:

"To each their path. You needn't concern yourself, City Lord Wang."

Wang made no move to follow, but quietly instructed his five followers to "take care" of Wu Yuqi's group once inside the small world.

Of course, by "take care," he meant eliminate.

Once they were a distance away, Liu transmitted a voice message to his group:

"That man has a grudge with Qilan City, and his team is stronger than ours. If you encounter them inside the small world, stay alert—they will target you."

The five nodded solemnly. Wu Yuqi and the others felt real fear.

Fang Hao, on the other hand, simply memorized the faces of the five youths behind Wang.

They arrived at the palace gates, where many City Lords and their representatives had already gathered.

Brilliant auras radiated from all directions—these were geniuses of cities from all over the dynasty, like celestial beings descended from the heavens.

Fang Hao's group felt utterly out of place, like grass at the foot of mountains.

Liu paid it no mind. He was used to it.

He even greeted a few familiar colleagues while they waited.

Then, a stir swept through the crowd—

"Look! It's the Marquis of Kaishan!"

"The Fourth Prince is here too!"

"I still think Cheng Yunlai is the strongest."

"These guys will surely be in the top ten—maybe even take first place!"

"Forget ranking. Just seeing them up close is already a blessing!"

Hearing the chatter, Fang Hao looked up.

The Fourth Prince, clad in golden armor, exuded authority and might. Though the youngest of the Brightmoon Immortal Emperor's four sons, his talent was unmatched.

Even his followers looked terrifying—each one a threat by themselves.

The Marquis of Kaishan was a towering figure, his presence like a primordial beast. His eyes were sharp and deadly—no one dared make eye contact. A full ten yards around him remained clear.

Cheng Yunlai was tall and slender, dressed in flowing white robes. He looked like a scholarly gentleman—but was in truth a peerless talent cloaked in civility.

Then came a woman of breathtaking beauty.

Wearing a light blue gown, she floated barefoot in the air, surrounded by soft radiant light. She seemed to have stepped out of a painting, a fairy descended from celestial halls.

She was known as Fairy Qingyu, and despite her gentle appearance, her battle prowess was overwhelming—often effortlessly crushing all other contenders.

Compared to the others, these figures were like suns among stars.

Wu Yuqi's group, who had barely begun recovering their shattered confidence, were crushed again.

"A single look from them could kill us," they realized. "Why are we even here?"

Soon, everyone had gathered.

An elderly man, pale-faced and beardless, brought out a treasure ship and activated its formation.

City Lords led their groups aboard.

Liu and his party boarded quietly, taking seats at the very edge.

City Lord Wang and his five followers were nearby. Those five glared mockingly at Wu Yuqi's team. Wu Yuqi and Fang Hao ignored them, but Yin Dongkai and the others turned away, pretending not to notice.

Once everyone was on board, the elder waved his hand. The treasure ship turned into a streak of light and shot forward.

Compared to Liu's personal ship, this one was far superior. In just fifteen minutes, they had left Zhentian City behind.

They flew northward for hours until reaching a vast plain. The ship finally slowed and stopped.

The pale elder rose into the sky, holding a golden token, chanting incantations while forming hand seals. Runes flew into the token, which began to shine.

"RUMBLE!"

Suddenly, the sky darkened as a bolt of purple lightning burst from the token and tore open the void, creating a massive spatial rift—a yawning black gap where nothing could be seen.

The elder's voice was smooth and eerie:

"Each city's prodigies are to enter the small world through this portal. In its center lies a sky-piercing mountain. When ten cultivators reach the summit—or two years pass—the exit will reopen."

As soon as he finished, the Fourth Prince entered first with his followers.

The others soon followed—some rushing in, others with clear reluctance.

Before long, the ship was empty.

Liu turned to his five:

"Go. Do your best—don't force anything."

He said this every year. He didn't expect miracles.

For Qilan City's participants, surviving was already a win.

Even if they ran away and refused to go in, he would understand.

Wu Yuqi and the others nodded and entered the void.

Their faces betrayed their fear.

Liu sighed as he watched them disappear.

"Please… just come back alive."

Inside the small world, they appeared in a shadowy gorge.

Before they could discuss their next move, Wu Yuqi turned coldly:

"Don't follow me."

With that, he vanished.

He wasn't being aloof or accusing them of being burdens. He just wanted to hide somewhere remote and ride out the trial peacefully.

But his pride wouldn't let him say so aloud.

Once he was gone, Yin Dongkai and the others smiled—as if a weight had been lifted.

"Fang Hao, this place is dangerous. Let's stick together."

"Yeah, strength in numbers. We can watch each other's backs."

Their words sounded reasonable, but Fang Hao noticed it clearly—

They were subtly surrounding him, taking flanking positions.

Fang Hao's eyes narrowed.

"So… what did the Guan Clan promise you? Enough to make you risk your lives in this deathtrap?"

Back at the City Lord's estate, he'd sensed something was off.

Their glances toward him were suspicious, and now this maneuver made everything clear.

His question caught them off guard—not the accusation, but the fact that Fang Hao figured it out so quickly.

But then his next words hit harder, laced with disdain:

"You three were so terrified you almost stayed behind. And now you're here to kill me?"

Their faces turned red with rage.

"Still boasting at death's door?!" one of them shouted.

"Fang Hao! This time next year will be the anniversary of your death!"

Their fury boiled—not just from being exposed, but from being mocked with the truth.

It wasn't a lie that hurt them.

It was the truth—sharp as a blade.

Lies don't wound.

But truth? Truth cuts deep.