Chapter Twenty-Six: Sonic Benchmark

“If there are no objections, then prepare to begin the contest!” The Pope addressed the group once more.

No one spoke up.

Immediately, the Pope drew lots, leaving one person idle, and randomly divided the remaining contestants into six groups. Thus began the battle for the Sacred Cloth.

The apprentice warriors finally witnessed this rare, extraordinary clash.

It was important to note that all thirteen backup warriors participating had ignited their inner cosmos, breaking through the barrier of supersonic speed.

According to Yin Seventeen’s observations, the weakest contestant had reached thirty times the speed of sound, while three had surpassed a hundredfold. Douglas, in particular, was the most formidable.

Preliminary estimates suggested Douglas had attained a level at least four hundred times the speed of sound—a middling rank among all Bronze Saints.

Meanwhile, the many apprentice warriors, who had not yet broken the sound barrier, could not even follow the movements of the participants.

Nonetheless, they watched with avid fascination.

Though they could not discern the actions of the contestants, they could clearly see the terrifying devastation left upon the arena after each explosive attack.

With the protection of the cosmos, the bodies of backup warriors could fully withstand the strain brought by supersonic speed.

Even the most basic sonic punch could unleash destructive force comparable to a grenade.

As for supersonic punches, they were little different from missiles.

Especially during Douglas’s first match: his fist struck the arena floor, shattering it into pieces.

Had it not been for the gods’ blessing upon the Sanctuary, that single punch might have collapsed the entire spectator area.

“The Hydra Cloth is mine! You outsiders had better abandon your foolish hopes!” Douglas laughed as he kicked aside a headless corpse, intimidating the other contestants.

Seizing the opportunity, he smashed his opponent’s skull with a single blow.

No one responded; upon seeing his bloodstained fist and the headless body, their gazes toward Douglas grew increasingly fearful.

The first round ended swiftly, and the second round began immediately.

“I concede!”

Douglas’s opponent in the second match surrendered of his own accord.

One surrender led to another, like the final straw breaking the camel’s back, completely igniting the terror of Douglas in the remaining contestants.

Soon, Douglas advanced unimpeded, ultimately claiming victory.

Under the Pope’s witness, he received the Hydra Cloth.

“If the battle for the Sacred Cloth is only at this level, I fear none here could be my match,” Yin Seventeen mused, watching the delighted Douglas after his win.

Igniting the cosmos marks the entry into the extraordinary realm, the beginning of transcendence.

Ordinary mortals, no matter how hard they strive, can never break the sonic barrier—their bodies simply cannot endure it.

Flesh and blood have their limits.

The cosmos is the key to breaking those limits.

With the cosmos’s blessing, a person's body can rival steel and harness even greater strength and speed.

Thus, once apprentice warriors ignite their cosmos, physical training ceases to be their focus; cultivating the power of the cosmos becomes paramount.

The more cosmos they master, the stronger they become.

Moreover, after gaining the cosmos’s power, they can easily reach and surpass the speed of sound, and their growth differs entirely from ordinary people.

During their apprenticeship, Yin Seventeen and his peers aimed to approach the speed of sound.

With initial mastery of the sixth sense, an ordinary person’s speed is akin to that of a boxer—about ten meters per second.

Even at the pinnacle of training, they cannot exceed the sonic limit of 340 meters per second, roughly thirty-four times a boxer’s speed.

Therefore, as apprentices, they measured themselves against the speed of a boxer.

But once a warrior ignites the cosmos, reaching and surpassing the speed of sound is effortless; their ultimate goal becomes the light speed of a Gold Saint.

Light speed is approximately 882,353 times the speed of sound, rendering comparisons with boxer speed meaningless.

At this stage, measuring a cosmos warrior by the speed of a boxer is entirely inappropriate.

Instead, they use the speed of sound as their standard.

Thus, in the eyes of apprentice warriors, the sonic speed they strive years to achieve is but a trivial advancement for those who have ignited the cosmos—it might take only a month, or even a day, of training.

Now, though barely a year has passed since Yin Seventeen ignited his cosmos, under the guidance of the Masked Man, his progress has been astonishing.

Sword training was perfectly suited to his constitution, which had been assimilated by the old Daoist’s sword aura; in the course of this year, he not only mastered sword aura but also made remarkable strides in controlling his cosmos.

By his own estimation, he had reached six hundred times the speed of sound.

In this battle for the Hydra Cloth, the strongest, Douglas, was only at four hundred times sonic speed, and ten others had not broken the hundredfold mark.

Before the sword aura of six hundred times the speed of sound, these competitors stood no chance.

Moreover, the battle for the Sacred Cloth is held every six months.

By the next contest, he would surely be stronger; if no suitable cloth appeared then, those with the same ambition as he could only be mourned.

Leaving the arena, Yin Seventeen returned to his usual training grounds, where the Masked Man awaited him.

“Senior, how did you know the Hydra Cloth wasn’t suitable for me?” Yin Seventeen asked, casually picking up a stone and slicing it as he spoke.

“Have you ever wondered, with so many in the training camp, why I chose you and not someone else?” The Masked Man folded his arms and countered.

This question left Yin Seventeen stumped.

He had pondered it many times over the past year, but never found an answer.

He had been chosen, surely, for some trait that set him apart.

Yet, aside from his unusual background, he could not think of anything remarkable.

At least, that was his belief.

But if the Masked Man had come only because of his unique status, he would not have taught him anything; rather, he would have watched in secret and struck mercilessly once certain.

The reality, however, was quite different.

“Let me ask you again: what is the purpose of a teacher instructing a disciple?” Seeing his confusion, the Masked Man prompted.

“A teacher instructing a disciple?”

Yin Seventeen pondered seriously, then answered slowly, “It should be for inheritance. The teacher hopes the disciple will pass on his teachings.”

The Masked Man nodded and said, “Based on that answer, now reconsider the previous question.”

“Inheritance? Teacher? Disciple?”

Yin Seventeen thought for a long time, then ventured, “Is it because only a disciple can learn what the teacher has to offer?”

“Wrong. It’s because only certain individuals are capable of learning the teacher’s teachings—those people become the teacher’s disciples,” the Masked Man replied coldly.