Steadily Upgrading Everything!
Chapter 49: Maybe I’ll start pretending to admire you.

Chapter 49: Maybe I’ll start pretending to admire you.

Soon enough, blue-robed disciples from the Blue Cauldron Sect began making rounds through the ship’s massive central hall, clipboard-like talismans in their hands.

They walked with strict discipline, heads held high, and began collecting beast core bags from the participants.

Each participant was asked to hand over their core pouch, and the contents were carefully examined.

Names were jotted down with glowing ink, and core values were tallied using faint spiritual scales that hovered in the air.

When the disciples reached them, John handed over his bag silently.

Caros followed with a grin, while Riara tossed hers lazily, stretching her arms afterward like she had just dropped something unimportant.

Once done, the trio left the hall and made their way through the ship’s beautifully carved inner corridors, heading toward John’s assigned room.

Riara casually jumped onto one of the beds and crossed her legs. "So, what do you think your ranking will be?" she asked, casting a sideways glance at John.

John leaned against the wall and rubbed his chin, smiling faintly. "Top fifty, maybe. I’m hoping somewhere in there."

Riara’s brows shot up. Then her lips curled into a proud smirk. "Hmph... You’re hopeless at playing low-key. I’m thinking... last place. But only because I wanted it," she said, lifting her chin with exaggerated grace.

Caros, who had just sat cross-legged on a cushion, blinked. "And getting last place... is your idea of staying under the radar?" His tone was dry, incredulous.

Realizing how odd that sounded, Riara’s expression twitched.

Her cheeks colored slightly with embarrassment, but she masked it quickly.

She turned to glare at him. "No one was talking to you."

John laughed at her response, his eyes full of amusement. "Don’t worry. I think you’ll perform well too," he added sincerely.

Riara sniffed. "Hmph. I just... like being mysterious," she muttered, hugging a nearby pillow and looking away.

Caros opened his mouth as if to make another remark but held back.

Instead, his expression grew more serious. He turned to John, his fingers idly playing with the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Honestly, I think we’ll end up higher than top fifty. Most of the powerful participants didn’t even make it to the final five hundred. They were likely wiped out by those damn Silentswords."

A cold glint appeared in his eyes.

John’s smile faded.

The memory of Crimson, Benneca, and Clark resurfaced in his mind, along with the image of blood flowing from his own chest.

He nodded silently, his knuckles tightening.

The room fell into a brief, heavy silence, until suddenly, three sharp knocks echoed through the room.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

John’s brows furrowed.

He stepped away from the wall and approached the door slowly. "Who’s there?" he asked.

No response.

Only more knocks, calm, methodical, as if the one knocking knew exactly how unsettling the silence was.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

John narrowed his eyes and activated his Spatial Sense.

His awareness surged beyond the wooden barrier, and instantly, his heart skipped a beat.

He turned to Caros, voice low. "It’s him... Crimson."

Caros didn’t even blink.

He stood up in one fluid motion, a thin sword appearing in his hand like it had always been there. "Open it. Fighting on the ship is prohibited, he won’t make a move. Not unless he’s ready to be expelled or killed."

John nodded.

He reached out and opened the door.

On the other side stood Crimson Silentsword.

Red hair messy, a polite smile carved into his face like a practiced mask, and that same relaxed but deadly aura humming just beneath the surface.

He was dressed neatly in black robes with the Silent Sword insignia, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

Without waiting for an invitation, Crimson walked into the room, his steps smooth, deliberate.

Riara shot to her feet the moment she saw him, instinctively placing herself between the bed and the wall, her hand brushing against her waist where her concealed blade rested.

John didn’t speak. Neither did Caros. They simply watched him.

Crimson looked around the room, then turned his attention to John. "Well, well. You’re tougher than you look," he said with a grin. "I was sure that sword to your chest would’ve done the job."

John didn’t reply.

Crimson’s eyes flicked to Caros. "And you. Space displacement under that kind of pressure? Impressive. Must’ve cost you something precious."

Caros smiled thinly. "You came to compliment us? You could’ve just sent a letter."

Crimson chuckled. "No, no. I just wanted to see how my sword was doing. Is it treating you well, John?"

John’s hand unconsciously moved to his side, where the sword had pierced him days ago.

"I melted it," he lied coldly.

Crimson’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes sharpened for just a split second. "Shame. That was an expensive sword. Family heirloom, even."

"Should’ve kept it on a shelf, then," John replied.

Tension sizzled in the air like a sword ready to be drawn.

Riara’s fingers itched toward her blade.

Crimson stepped back slowly, raising his hands. "Relax. Like Caros said, no fighting on the ship. I just came to say hello. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again... inside the sect."

With that, he gave a slight bow, turned, and walked out, leaving behind a heavy silence in his wake.

Riara let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

"Next time," John muttered, eyes locked on the door, "he’s not walking away."

Caros cracked his neck. "Next time, we don’t need permission to kill."

After three hours, the entirety of the remaining participants, just over five hundred cultivators, were summoned once more to the main ship hall.

The enormous room buzzed with murmured anticipation as footsteps echoed against polished spirit jade floors.

Soft blue lanterns, suspended by floating arrays, lit the entire space with a gentle but dignified glow.

Dozens of Blue Cauldron Sect disciples stood in two orderly lines flanking the main stage, their robes pristine, expressions unreadable.

At the center stood the elder clad in robes that shimmered like the night sky, embroidered with the cauldron insignia of the sect.

Despite the age lining his face, the elder’s posture was straight, and his aura, although restrained, carried the gravity of a towering mountain.

With a sharp glance that swept across the gathered participants, he finally opened his mouth.

"All of you have passed the assessment for the Blue Cauldron Sect. I thank you for participating in our humble examination."

There was something almost disarming in the way he said "humble".

A sect that ruled over thousands of square kilometers and held territory in both wilderness and cities alike calling itself humble? The statement confused some, amused others, but left an impression on all.

"My name is Dommorus Stillfire, and you may refer to me simply as Elder Dom."

The crowd bowed lightly, murmuring his name.

Elder Dom lifted a hand and a glowing talisman appeared in his palm.

"Now, the rankings. As promised, the top three will receive, One Core Forming Elixir, A fighting technique of their choice, and A Grade Five pill formula of their choice."

A thunderous wave of shock passed through the crowd.

"A Core Forming Elixir?!"

"That’s worth hundreds of thousands of spirit stones!"

"My clan hasn’t seen one in a decade..."

John stood silently among the crowd, eyes calm. Though others gasped and whispered in disbelief, his expression remained steady.

’I’m not ready for the Core Formation Realm just yet. By the time I reach that stage, I’ll find a way to earn an elixir myself... What matters now are the techniques and pill formulas.’

Riara, standing beside him, whispered, "Tch, typical Blue Cauldron showoff moves. Handing out treasure to flex their wealth."

Caros snorted, arms folded. "Still wouldn’t mind one of those ’flexes’ in my pocket."

Elder Dom continued, unfazed by the excitement.

"Those ranking fourth to tenth will receive, A fighting technique of their choice, and A Grade Five pill formula. Those within the top fifty will each receive a Grade Five pill formula."

The room buzzed even louder now. For most outer disciples of other sects, getting their hands on a single Grade Five pill formula was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Elder Dom raised a hand, and silence fell like a spell over the hall.

He reached for a scroll presented by one of the disciples beside him.

The paper unrolled with a crackle of spiritual energy, names glowing upon it in shimmering gold ink.

He took a deep breath before announcing:

"First place... Clark Silentsword."

All heads turned as a tall figure with silver hair and calm arrogance stepped forward from the crowd.

His arms were crossed, his expression full of aloof superiority.

But as his name echoed through the hall, he gracefully unfolded his arms and walked to the platform.

He bowed respectfully to Elder Dom, who handed him a golden jade token glowing with faint inscriptions.

"Submit this at the Depository Hall in the inner sect, and your rewards will be presented to you," Elder Dom instructed.

Clark bowed again, not daring to display arrogance before an elder of Elder Dom’s status.

’Smart,’ John thought, watching the way Clark masked his disdain under etiquette. ’He knows when to act properly.

That makes him even more dangerous.’

"Second place: Benneca Silentsword."

A whisper of movement.

The silver-haired girl with the deadpan face ascended the stage wordlessly.

No bows, no flair, just efficiency.

She received her token and left the platform just as quietly.

"Third place: Crimson Silentsword."

Groans and muttered curses came from various participants.

Some even looked down in disgust.

The red-haired youth grinned wide, soaking in the attention like a man starved of it.

He practically danced his way up the steps.

"Hah! Knew I’d make top three!" he whispered loudly, earning some scowls.

He bowed, half-heartedly, and took his token, eyes glinting mischievously as he glanced back toward the crowd.

The top three positions being taken by the Silentswords didn’t come as a surprise, but it did leave a bitter taste in the mouths of many.

Their brutal tactics on the island had left a trail of blood and resentment.

After a pause, Elder Dom’s voice rang out again.

"Fourth place: John Coral."

The entire hall seemed to freeze.

Riara smirked beside him. "Looks like someone wasn’t bluffing about top fifty."

Caros clapped once, then muttered under his breath, "Tch. Fourth? Stole my spotlight..."

John didn’t hesitate.

He stepped forward, calm and collected, his long coat brushing against his boots as he climbed the stage.

He bowed deeply to Elder Dom.

Elder Dom’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual.

There was a strange flicker of interest in them, perhaps curiosity? Recognition?

He handed John his token.

"You’ve done well, John Coral. You have a sharp path ahead of you. Walk it wisely."

"Thank you, Elder," John replied, his tone even.

As he descended from the stage, he passed Crimson, who gave him a mocking smirk.

"Too bad you’ll always be a step behind me," Crimson whispered.

John didn’t respond.

His fingers merely tightened around the token in his palm.

He returned to Riara and Caros, both of whom had wide grins on their faces.

"Well," Caros said, "you better not pick the same technique as me."

"I won’t," John said. "I’m picking one strong enough to kill you if you ever piss me off."

Riara laughed. "I’m just glad you didn’t die. Maybe I’ll start pretending to admire you... if you keep climbing."

John looked ahead as the elder resumed reading the names.