Chapter Thirty-One: Utter Domination

Seeing this, Yin Seventeen couldn’t help but shake his head.
“Even at a time like this, you’re still plotting against each other. Thinking you can defeat me is simply laughable!”
Faced with his mockery, no one dared to speak, fearing that the first to draw his attention would be met with a fierce assault.
Yin Seventeen cracked his knuckles, the staccato sound echoing leisurely throughout the arena.
“Since none of you wish to make the first move, I won’t be polite!”
Before his words had faded, his figure blurred, and in an instant, he vanished from sight.
“Where did he go?”
“Where is he?”
The reserve fighters were thrown into panic.
“Don’t panic! He must have used some special ability to hide himself. Let’s all attack the center of the arena indiscriminately!” someone shouted, trying to steady the group.
Boom!
Just as the others were about to respond, a thunderous crash erupted from the arena.
Looking toward the sound, they saw a reserve fighter embedded deep in the protective wall at the edge of the arena, already unconscious.
“What just happened?” cried a female reserve fighter in terror.
The unconscious fighter had been standing not far from her, yet despite such proximity, she had no idea what had transpired.
The remaining dozen or so were just as bewildered, unsure how their unlucky comrade had been struck down, a chill creeping into their hearts.
But the terror did not end there.
One after another, rhythmic explosions resounded across the arena.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The reserve fighters witnessed their companions sent flying like cannonballs, slamming hard into the walls, then falling motionless, utterly incapacitated.
“What in the world is happening?” someone nearly screamed in despair.
But no one in the arena could answer.
All that followed was the relentless sight of one companion after another colliding with the walls.
They didn’t understand, but that didn’t mean everyone else was in the dark.
From the judges’ seats, the Pope had already seen through it all.
“The difference in strength is overwhelming,” he mused inwardly.

Yin Seventeen’s power far outstripped that of the fourteen reserve fighters—his speed was nearly a hundred thousand times the speed of sound, stronger even than some Silver Saints.
Against a group whose best could only reach five hundred times the speed of sound, his victory was absolute.
No need for any skill; sheer speed alone rendered him invisible to their eyes, as if he’d vanished into thin air.
Relying solely on this overwhelming speed and simple straight punches, Yin Seventeen effortlessly sent his opponents flying off the arena.
In less than thirty seconds, all fourteen reserve fighters had been embedded in the protective wall.
Only he remained, solitary in the vast arena.
Most of the audience were apprentice fighters, not yet having ignited their cosmos.
If even the reserve fighters couldn’t grasp what had happened, the apprentices stood no chance.
Even so, they understood one thing: Yin Seventeen had effortlessly defeated fourteen competitors in under half a minute!
Instantly, cheers and applause rang out among the stands.
“What an unbelievable duel!”
“He’s simply incredible!”

The outcome was decided. The Pope, gazing at the lone figure in the arena, asked, “Young man, tell me your name.”
“Your Holiness, I am Yin Seventeen!” Facing the judges’ stand, Yin Seventeen knelt on one knee with solemn respect.
“Very good!”
The Pope nodded, then announced in a clear voice, “The ultimate victor of this Cloth Tournament is Yin Seventeen!”
The crowd erupted in jubilant cheers, no one objecting in the slightest.
“Come, approach and claim your Cloth!” the Pope gestured to the sacred armor chest displayed on the stage.
Yet, Yin Seventeen remained kneeling, unmoving.
“What is it? Are you not satisfied?” Beneath his mask, the Pope frowned slightly.
“No.”
Yin Seventeen shook his head and continued, “I have another request, Your Holiness.”
Having won the Swordfish Cloth, he was now officially a Saint, directly under the Pope’s command—unlike the other reserve fighters who had merely awakened their cosmos. He now had the right to address himself as ‘your subordinate.’
“What is it?” the Pope asked, somewhat surprised.
“Though the Swordfish Cloth is fine, I believe the Silver Cloth would suit me better. I wish to apply for the Silver Promotion Battle,” Yin Seventeen replied with neither arrogance nor servility.
“Silver, you say?”

The Pope looked him over and nodded. “With your strength, remaining a mere Bronze Saint would be a waste of talent.”
“Let me consider this…”
He stroked his chin, falling into thoughtful silence.
He didn’t particularly like Yin Seventeen’s cosmos, but this was hardly a reason to make things difficult over a trivial matter.
As a ruler, one must possess a ruler’s magnanimity.
“The higher-level Cloths above Swordfish are Eridanus and Crater.”
“The Eridanus Silver Saint is already in place; Crater is still vacant.”
Having reached a decision, the Pope turned to Yin Seventeen. “The Silver Saint of Crater remains unchosen.
For this Silver Promotion Battle, if you defeat the remaining three Bronze candidates, I shall grant you the Crater Silver Cloth!”
Hearing this, Yin Seventeen suppressed his inner delight and replied, “I obey, Your Holiness!”
Facing three Bronze candidates was far easier than directly challenging a Silver Saint.
Generally, a Bronze Saint’s strength was capped at a thousand times the speed of sound; Silver Saints began at that threshold, with their power able to approach the speed of light. The gap was immense.
Thus, defeating three Bronze candidates was much safer than risking a fight against a Silver Saint of unknown strength.
The Pope then ignited his cosmos, his voice spreading across all of Sanctuary through his mind’s power.
“Bronze Saints of Piscis Austrinus, Flying Fish, and Dolphin—heed my command! Proceed at once to the arena and prepare for the Silver Promotion Battle!”
In the stands, many who had begun to leave, thinking the tournament over, paused in their tracks.
Most were apprentice fighters with little knowledge of the Saints’ internal promotions.
Whispers and lively discussions swept through the crowd.
Soon, news of the Promotion Battle spread among the apprentices.
Learning there was an even more exciting contest to come, the audience quickly returned to their seats, anticipation high.
Meanwhile, having received the Pope’s telepathic summons, many Saints throughout Sanctuary turned their attention to the arena.
“A Silver Promotion Battle? This is something not to be missed!”
Thus, aside from the Gold Saints of the Twelve Temples, the Bronze and Silver Saints of Sanctuary all hurried toward the arena.
A Cloth Tournament between Bronze-level fighters held little interest for them, but a Silver Promotion Battle—requiring at least a thousandfold speed of sound to qualify—was a contest between true Saints.
Such a bout far surpassed the Cloth Tournament, offering a spectacle of incomparable grandeur.