The Supreme Eternal Prime God 1000X System From Beginning Chapter 37
– the world no longer decides his fate
The moment the Elder overseeing the match raised his hand, the air within the Grand Tournament Arena grew heavier, denser, the very spiritual energy that had once flowed freely now bending subtly, twisting unnaturally, the shifting currents of power pressing downward like an unseen force upon the battlefield, as if the weight of the moment itself had begun to shape reality in anticipation of what was about to unfold.
Thousands of disciples watched in absolute silence, their gazes locked onto the two figures standing upon the vast, ancient battlefield, their hearts pounding with something that was not quite excitement, not quite fear, not quite anticipation—but something deeper.
Something closer to dread.
Because this was not just another battle.
This was not just another test.
This was not just another step toward the tournament’s conclusion.
This was the moment where Zhao Wei’s fate would be decided.
And whether that fate ended in victory, in defeat, or in something far worse than either—
None of them believed it was in his hands anymore.
Zhao Wei knew.
Even before the match had truly begun, before the first move had been made, before the clash of spiritual energy had filled the battlefield—
He already knew.
There was no tension in Xiao Lin’s posture.
No anticipation in his golden eyes.
No hesitation in his breath.
Because Xiao Lin was not fighting.
He was waiting.
Waiting for this formality to end.
Waiting for the last remnants of resistance to break.
Waiting for the world to stop pretending it still had a choice.
And yet, despite the absolute futility of it all, despite the overwhelming certainty that he had no path forward, despite the cold truth that no amount of skill, no amount of training, no amount of talent could ever bridge the gap between them—
Zhao Wei moved anyway.
Because to do nothing would be worse.
Because to stand still would mean acknowledging that he had never mattered.
Because if he had to fall—then at the very least, he would fall while still moving forward.
A flicker of motion.
A surge of spiritual energy.
A blur of lightning-infused Qi.
Zhao Wei’s body disappeared in a flash of speed, his figure splitting into three afterimages, each one identical, each one carrying the same presence, the same force, the same signature of Qi, his footwork flawless, his execution seamless, his presence vanishing from Xiao Lin’s direct line of sight as his three figures converged upon him from multiple angles—
A perfect technique.
An illusion so precise, so refined, so close to perfection that only the most advanced cultivators of the Outer Court had ever managed to counter it.
And yet—
Xiao Lin did not move.
Did not react.
Did not even acknowledge it.
Because in his eyes, Zhao Wei’s technique—his desperate attempt to attack, to struggle, to prove that he still belonged upon this battlefield—
Was already worthless.
A slow blink.
A quiet exhale.
And then—
A single step forward.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
And in that instant—
The battlefield shattered.
A shockwave erupted outward from Xiao Lin’s position, a formless, invisible force that was not Qi, not a technique, not a manifestation of spiritual energy, but something deeper, something more absolute, something that did not need to be explained—because it was not meant to be understood.
The three afterimages of Zhao Wei—
Vanished.
Not dispersed.
Not destroyed.
Not countered.
Simply—erased.
And Zhao Wei himself?
His body was flung backward, his breath torn from his lungs, his vision blurred by the sheer impact of the unseen force that had not even touched him directly, yet had rendered every effort, every attack, every plan he had crafted meaningless.
He hit the far edge of the battlefield before he even realized he had lost.
And before he could even think of standing—
The match was already over.
From the private pavilion, where the strongest disciples had gathered to observe, where Zhan Kanzi sat unmoving, his fingers curled tightly into the armrest of his chair, his dark eyes narrowed, his breath slow, controlled, yet filled with something dangerously close to rage—
The moment had come.
He had seen enough.
It was time.
With the faintest flick of his wrist, a subtle motion hidden beneath the folds of his robes, a silent signal was sent—
And in that instant, beyond the battlefield, beyond the watchful gazes of the Outer Court disciples, beyond the oversight of the Elders who had been too focused on watching Xiao Lin’s battle to realize what was happening—
The trap was activated.
A disturbance in the air.
A fracture in the natural flow of Qi.
A ripple of something foreign, something unnatural, something that did not belong within the academy’s tournament grounds—
And then—
The barrier surrounding the battlefield collapsed.
A deafening boom echoed through the coliseum.
A pulse of foreign spiritual energy tore through the air.
A presence that did not belong to the academy—that did not belong to this realm—descended upon the battlefield.
And in that moment, as the dust settled, as the unnatural force coiled through the shattered remnants of the once-pristine spiritual formations that had kept the tournament grounds stable, as the Elders rose to their feet in alarm, as the disciples gasped in confusion and fear—
Something stepped forward.
Something that was not part of this world.
Something that was never meant to exist here.
And yet—it had come for Xiao Lin.
From the Inner Court Pavilion, a pair of ancient eyes narrowed slightly, their golden glow flickering like embers against the dim light.
A whisper.
A name.
And then, softly—
“It seems they are afraid of him.”
A pause.
A quiet chuckle.
“But they were too late.”
Because Xiao Lin was no longer someone they could stop.
And soon—
The world would learn this as well.
