Chapter 495 - 494: The Finals Begin!

The next morning, Bird’s Nest Square was already packed with people.

The colossal stadium could accommodate up to 150,000 spectators, yet not a single seat was empty. Outside, more people queued desperately, hoping for even the slimmest chance to squeeze in and witness the spectacle.

It was no mystery why. Today marked the start of the National Martial Arts Conference Finals.

The warriors who had triumphed in the municipal and provincial knockouts to reach this stage were no ordinary fighters—they were the elite of the elite. Their clashes promised to be nothing short of extraordinary.

This was the stage that drew countless eyes. And more importantly, today’s victor would not only be crowned national champion but also carry the honor of representing the country in the upcoming World Martial Arts Challenge.

In the stands, speculation ran rampant.

"I wonder who’ll win the championship?"

"My money’s on Sun Zhengying from the Sun family. He’s already an innate master—an absolute prodigy."

"Sun Zhengying’s talent is undeniable, but don’t forget—he’s only twenty-three. His foundation isn’t deep enough yet. I think Qian Ming is the safer bet."

"Agreed. Qian Ming’s an innate master too, but he’s been famous for much longer. He’s far more seasoned."

"I still favor Cao Xiong. His innate mastery makes him a real threat as well."

"Hey, don’t forget about One Finger Zen, Fenric!"

"Pfft! That fraud? Why even mention him?"

"Hahaha, relax—I was just joking. I just want to see how much backing he really has. Who’d dare stage fake matches in the finals?"

"Fake matches here? You’re dreaming. Didn’t you see all the big names sitting in the VIP seats? Even the foremost authorities of the martial world are here. Try cheating now and see what happens!"

"First round elimination is waiting for him, just watch."

"Even if he loses early, he’s already qualified to join the Martial Arts Association. Maybe that’s all he’s after."

"Tch. If the Association really lets someone like that in, it’ll be like rat droppings ruining a whole pot of porridge."

"Enough chatter—it’s starting!"

The crowd buzzed with anticipation.

National TV stations had set up long in advance, dozens of cameras positioned from every angle to broadcast the event to the millions unable to attend in person.

At nine o’clock sharp, the host strode onto the central platform.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!"

After a fiery opening speech, he finally got to the heart of it.

"This year’s finals bring together 128 competitors from every corner of the nation. Each carries the determination to seize victory. Let’s give them a thunderous round of applause as they take the stage!"

Thunderous applause roared through the massive arena.

Backstage, contestants began filing out one after another. Each entrance was met with cheers—except when Fenric appeared. His presence drew a wave of boos and jeers.

Unfazed, he walked calmly to his position.

Once all 128 contestants stood assembled, the host continued:

"As in previous rounds, match-ups will be decided by lottery. Contestants, please draw your numbers."

Fenric waited his turn. When he finally drew, his slip bore the number 92—which meant his first opponent would be contestant 91.

Backstage again, Xiao Linger hurried to him with the match chart in hand.

"Fenric, your first opponent is Li Shaobin from Province J. He’s known for his leg techniques—you’ll need to be careful."

Fenric nodded with a polite seriousness, though inwardly he paid it no mind.

He already knew the plot. According to it, the eventual world champion would be Tang Zichen—the only opponent worth his real attention. Everyone else? Irrelevant.

The tournament commenced.

By seven o’clock that evening, the first round concluded. Sixty-four competitors advanced.

Fenric was, of course, among them. His victory was swift—another effortless one-finger strike that dropped his opponent instantly.

The audience responded with a storm of boos, and online critics once again erupted with accusations of fakery.

The second day brought the round of 64; by its end, 32 remained.

The third day produced the Top 16.

The fourth day narrowed the field to the Top 8.

And on the fifth day, the battle for the Top 4 began.

By this stage, even the most stubborn netizens began to doubt the "fraud" narrative.

Could someone really fake their way this far, under the eyes of so many officials and grandmasters? Even the Human Alliance’s highest council members wouldn’t dare such a thing.

Online discussions shifted:

"Is Fenric really just a product of shady dealings? Would the martial world’s greatest masters really ignore that?"

"Maybe he’s the real deal."

"Other fighters have scored instant wins too—it’s not unheard of. His are just more exaggerated."

"Watch his presence on stage! That unshakable composure alone sets him apart. He’s the real thing."

Regardless of speculation, the facts were clear: the Top 4 had been decided.

And the names were announced to thunderous fanfare: Fenric. Tang Zichen. Sun Zhengying. Qian Ming.

Two dark horses. Two seeded champions.

The final battles that would decide the national champion—and country representative on the world stage—were about to begin.