The Expert division qualifying matches continued throughout the afternoon, warriors demonstrating capabilities that kept the crowd engaged despite hours of continuous combat. Each fight revealed different approaches to cultivation, various weapon specializations, and the diverse fighting philosophies that Expert rank warriors had developed through years of training.

Raze observed them all with attention that had sharpened considerably after witnessing Berth's match. His transmigrator knowledge was actively cataloging techniques, comparing what he saw against game mechanics he remembered, looking for other anomalies that shouldn't exist in this world.

Several more matches concluded successfully, warriors advancing to the bracket stage while others departed toward healers nursing injuries that would take days to recover from properly. The three minute time limit continued proving brutal, forcing competitors to demonstrate their worth immediately rather than relying on extended tactical exchanges.

Then another name was called that drew attention from those who'd been watching carefully.

"Ban, Expert Low, versus Roderick, Expert Peak. Fighting space four."

A young man stepped forward from the competitors' section, his appearance immediately striking. Vibrant red hair was styled in spiky arrangement that somehow looked both deliberate and chaotic, the color so vivid it seemed to catch light with unnatural intensity. His eyes matched his hair, red irises that carried fierce energy even when his expression remained neutral.

He wore distinctive outfit that marked him as confident or possibly eccentric. Black sleeveless top revealed well developed arms, muscle definition speaking to extensive physical conditioning. White hakama style pants were secured with elaborate belt arrangement, multiple buckles and straps suggesting both function and aesthetic choice. Black gloves covered his hands, though they left fingers exposed.

His physique was that of dedicated martial artist, lean build prioritizing speed and technique over raw power. As he moved toward the designated fighting space, his footwork showed the same fluid quality Berth had displayed, steps flowing naturally without wasted motion.

Ban's opponent Roderick was substantially more experienced warrior, Expert Peak cultivation backed by physique showing years of dedicated training. The man carried heavy war axe, weapon requiring considerable strength to wield effectively. His expression showed confidence bordering on arrogance, clearly expecting quick victory against opponent three sub ranks beneath him.

The referee positioned himself appropriately, verifying both competitors were prepared before signaling the match's beginning.

Roderick moved first, his confidence translating into aggressive opening. The war axe swept horizontally with force that would split stone if it connected, cultivation energy enhancing the weapon's already substantial destructive potential.

Ban's response was fluid motion that carried him backward and slightly to the side, body angling just enough that the axe passed through space he'd occupied heartbeats before. His footwork was smooth, steps flowing naturally from one position to next without visible effort.

His breathing caught Raze's attention immediately. Controlled pattern, inhale through nose for precise count, exhale through mouth with similar timing. The same distinctive rhythm Berth had displayed, synchronized to movement in way that seemed integral to technique rather than simple exertion management.

Roderick pressed forward, launching combination of cuts that utilized his weapon's weight and reach. Each strike was powerful enough to end the match if it landed cleanly, Expert Peak cultivation pouring through the axe to create impacts that would devastate anything they touched.

Ban avoided them all with that same flowing movement, footwork carrying him through assault without apparent strain. But unlike pure evasion, he was positioning himself deliberately, each repositioning bringing him incrementally closer despite Roderick's aggressive pressure.

Then he struck.

Ban's fist drove into Roderick's extended wrist, the impact targeting the joint with precision that compromised grip strength immediately. The war axe wavered slightly, the weapon's weight suddenly becoming liability rather than advantage.

His follow up targeted Roderick's elbow, strike delivered with force disproportionate to the relatively small contact area. The joint hyperextended slightly, not breaking but compromising the limb enough that the axe became even more difficult to control properly.

Crack!

Roderick pulled back, recognizing his opponent was far more dangerous than Expert Low rank suggested. His expression shifted from confident to wary, reassessing tactics as he registered that straightforward aggression wasn't working.

The crowd noise increased, spectators recognizing they were watching another exceptional display. Expert Low warrior casually handling Expert Peak opponent, technique compensating for substantial cultivation gap.

In the observation area, Raze leaned forward slightly. Ban's style was immediately familiar, the breathing pattern and precise strikes at vulnerable points matching what Berth had demonstrated earlier. Same fundamental technique, same approach to combat, clearly taught by same instructor.

But Ban's execution carried additional polish, movements flowing with refinement suggesting more extensive training or simply greater natural aptitude. Where Berth's technique had been exceptionally precise, Ban's seemed effortless, as if the style was so thoroughly internalized that conscious thought was unnecessary.

And his cultivation aura, though marked as Expert Low, carried similar distinctive quality. Energy that shifted with his breath cycles, each inhale drawing power inward, each exhale releasing it in controlled bursts enhancing his strikes beyond what rank alone should provide.

Roderick attacked again, this time attempting to use his weapon's reach to maintain distance where Ban's superior technique would have less advantage. He swept the axe in wide arcs, creating zone of threat that should force his opponent to retreat rather than close.

Ban's response was to step inside the attack's optimal range, footwork carrying him forward with timing so precise the axe blade passed behind him by inches. His counter strikes came immediately, fists targeting Roderick's leading leg and exposed ribs in rapid succession.

Thump! Thump!

The impacts weren't devastating individually, but they accumulated. Roderick's mobility was being systematically compromised, joints and pressure points receiving damage that reduced his combat effectiveness without creating dramatic visible injuries.

Ban's breathing remained that controlled rhythm throughout, never faltering despite his exertion level. Each breath cycle seemed to refresh him, maintaining stamina that Expert Low rank warrior shouldn't possess during extended engagement with Peak opponent.

Finally, after perhaps two minutes of one sided technical dismantling, Roderick yielded. His body was covered in impacts that hadn't broken anything but had compromised enough vulnerable points that continuing would be pointless.

"Yield," he said clearly, voice carrying frustration at being so thoroughly outclassed despite his superior rank.

Ban stepped back immediately, resetting to neutral stance before bowing respectfully to his opponent. The gesture was formal, traditional courtesy matching what Berth had displayed, suggesting both had received same instruction in proper martial etiquette.

The referee declared Ban the winner, directing Roderick toward healers for treatment. The Expert Peak warrior departed with visible confusion, clearly struggling to process how someone three sub ranks lower had dominated him so completely.

Ban returned to the competitors' section with relaxed bearing, his red hair and eyes making him easily trackable through the crowd. His expression showed no particular satisfaction at the victory, remaining neutral as if the outcome had been expected.

The crowd's reaction was enthusiastic, spectators now recognizing pattern. Two Expert Low warriors with similar distinctive techniques, both defeating opponents substantially above their rank through exceptional technical skill.

"Another one," Fedora said quietly from beside Raze. "Same breathing pattern, same precise targeting of vulnerable points. They share the same teacher."

"Definitely," Raze confirmed, his tone carefully neutral despite recognizing exactly what style they were using.

Mariabel's golden eyes tracked Ban's return to the competitors' section. "But he's more polished than the first one. His movements looked effortless, like the technique is completely internalized. How much training would that require?"

"Years," Oziel said, his scarred face showing clear approval. "Both of them are recruitment priorities. Warriors with that level of technical foundation will become exceptional once their cultivation advances to match their skill."

The qualifying matches continued, several more Expert division warriors demonstrating their capabilities with varying degrees of success. Then another name was called that immediately captured attention.

"Shiro, Expert Low, versus Kellan, Expert Mid. Fighting space two."

A young man stepped forward from a different section of competitors, his appearance distinct from the previous fighters. Dark brown hair fell to just above his shoulders in deliberately casual style that somehow worked. His eyes were red, vivid color carrying different quality than Ban's fierce intensity, more cold calculation than raw energy.

He wore white collared shirt with sleeves rolled to forearms, the formal attire looking oddly appropriate despite tournament setting. Black pants and boots completed the outfit, along with black gloves covering both hands. But what drew immediate attention was the weapon secured at his side.

A katana, its scabbard showing red and black coloring in patterns that caught light distinctively. The weapon's presence marked him as sword specialist, though the blade remained sheathed as he moved toward the designated fighting space.

Shiro's movement carried different quality than Ban's or Berth's flowing grace. His steps were measured, deliberate, each one placed with precision that suggested constant awareness of positioning and distance. Not rushed, but purposeful in way that made even simple walking seem calculated.

His opponent Kellan was experienced warrior, Expert Mid cultivation backed by solid physique. He carried sword as well, though his was standard military issue blade rather than the distinctive weapon Shiro bore. His cultivation aura was solid, technique refined through extensive combat experience.

The referee positioned himself appropriately, verifying both competitors were prepared before signaling the match's beginning.

Neither warrior moved immediately, the opening seconds passing in stillness as they evaluated each other. Kellan's hand rested on his sword's hilt, ready to draw. Shiro stood with arms relaxed at his sides, seemingly unconcerned about the weapon at his waist despite being sword specialist.

Then Kellan drew, his blade clearing the scabbard with speed that came from practiced repetition. The steel gleamed as he moved into aggressive stance, cultivation energy flowing through the weapon to enhance its cutting power.

Shiro's response was economical to the point of seeming lazy. His hand moved to his katana's hilt, fingers wrapping around it with casual grip. But he didn't draw, didn't shift into combat stance, simply stood there with hand resting on weapon.

Kellan attacked, closing distance with step that covered ground faster than normal movement should allow. His sword swept toward Shiro's neck, horizontal cut designed to end the match immediately if it connected.

The blade passed through empty air.

Shiro had moved, body shifting backward with minimal effort that placed him exactly outside Kellan's range. His hand remained on his katana's hilt, still hadn't drawn despite facing active attack. His red eyes tracked his opponent's movement with focus that suggested he was analyzing rather than simply reacting.

Kellan pressed forward, launching combination of cuts that should have forced response beyond simple evasion. Each strike was technically sound, blade work showing the skill expected from Expert Mid warrior with proper training.

None of them connected.

Shiro's footwork carried him through the assault with movements that seemed to flow naturally from one position to the next. Not the flowing grace Berth and Ban had demonstrated, but something more economical. Each step covered exact distance required to avoid the attack, no wasted motion, no excessive flourish. Just precise calculation of space and timing.

The crowd noise increased, spectators recognizing they were watching yet another exceptional display. But this was different from the unarmed fighters. This was sword specialist who hadn't even drawn his weapon yet, evading armed opponent through pure footwork and positioning.

Kellan's frustration was becoming visible, his attacks growing slightly more aggressive as opponent refused to properly engage. His cultivation technique intensified, blade glowing with enhanced power that would make blocking inadvisable even for someone at his own rank.

Then Shiro drew his katana.

The movement was so fast it seemed to bypass the space between sheathed and drawn, blade simply appearing in his hand without visible transition. The steel gleamed with red and black patterns along its length, distinctive coloring that marked it as no ordinary weapon.

And his aura changed.

The cultivation energy surrounding Shiro's body shifted dramatically the moment his weapon cleared its scabbard. What had been barely detectable Expert Low presence transformed into something that made the air itself feel heavy. Not stronger in pure power terms, but focused with such precision it created pressure that exceeded what his rank should produce.

Kellan's next attack met steel for the first time.

Clang!

The sound of blades meeting carried across the arena, but it was wrong. Not the ring of equal forces colliding but something else. Kellan's sword had been deflected with minimal contact, Shiro's katana having moved perhaps two inches from guard position to redirect the strike completely.

The counter came immediately after. Shiro's blade swept toward Kellan's wrist in cut that would force him to release his weapon if it connected. Not aimed to sever, just to compromise grip through precise strike at vulnerable point.

Kellan pulled back desperately, recognizing the danger despite his superior rank. His own blade came up in defensive position, trying to create space between himself and this opponent who'd suddenly become far more dangerous.

But Shiro was already inside his guard, footwork having carried him forward the instant Kellan retreated. The katana moved in sequence too fast for individual strikes to be distinguished, flowing combination that targeted wrist, elbow, shoulder in rapid succession.

Kellan managed to parry the first two strikes through combination of skill and desperate reaction speed. The third caught his shoulder, blade's edge kissing flesh just deeply enough to draw blood without causing serious injury.

He disengaged, jumping backward to create separation. His shoulder wound was superficial but the message was clear. Shiro could have gone deeper, could have compromised the limb significantly if he'd chosen to press harder.

The crowd was silent now, thousands of spectators watching with attention that suggested they understood the significance of what they were witnessing. Expert Low warrior who'd dominated Expert Mid opponent within seconds of actually engaging.

Raze leaned forward in the observation area, his blue eyes tracking every detail of Shiro's technique. The sword work was exceptional, blade moving with precision that suggested years of dedicated training. But it was more than just skill with the weapon.

The way he calculated distance, positioning himself exactly where his opponent's attacks would fall short. The economy of his defensive movements, body shifting minimum distance necessary to avoid damage. And that distinctive quality to his cultivation aura when the blade was drawn, focused intensity that seemed disproportionate to his actual rank.

This was different from Ban and Berth's style. Where they used distinctive breathing techniques and unarmed combat, Shiro specialized in sword work that prioritized perfect timing and positioning over overwhelming force.

On the arena floor, Kellan was reassessing his approach. His opponent had proven far more dangerous than Expert Low rank suggested, technique compensating for the cultivation gap between them. He needed to change tactics, find weakness in defense that seemed impenetrable.

He attacked again, this time attempting to overwhelm through pure aggression. His sword moved in continuous assault, cuts and thrusts flowing one after another without pause. Cultivation energy poured into each strike, making his blade glow with power that would cut through steel if it landed cleanly.

Shiro's response was to move closer rather than retreat.

His footwork carried him inside Kellan's optimal range, positioning where the longer sword's reach became disadvantage. The katana moved in tight circular pattern, deflecting attacks through minimal contact that redirected force rather than opposing it directly.

Then he countered.

Three cuts, delivered so rapidly they seemed simultaneous. Kellan's sword arm, his leading leg, his exposed ribs. Each strike precise enough to draw blood without causing serious damage, technique that demonstrated complete control despite the speed.

Kellan yielded immediately, recognizing he was comprehensively outclassed. "Yield," he said clearly, weapon lowering in acknowledgment of defeat.

Shiro stepped back, katana returning to its scabbard with movement as smooth as the draw had been. His red eyes showed no particular satisfaction at the victory, expression remaining neutral as if this outcome had been expected rather than earned.

The referee declared Shiro the winner, directing Kellan toward healers for treatment of his superficial wounds. The Expert Mid warrior departed with visible frustration, recognizing he'd been handled efficiently by someone theoretically weaker than himself.

Shiro returned to the competitors' section with same measured steps he'd displayed approaching the fight, weapon secured at his side and hands relaxed. His cultivation aura had returned to barely detectable presence, that distinctive intensity disappearing the moment his blade was sheathed.

The crowd erupted in noise, spectators now thoroughly engaged by witnessing three exceptional Expert Low warriors defeating opponents above their rank through different but equally impressive techniques.

In the observation area, Fedora's expression showed sharp interest. "That one's different. Sword specialist where the others were unarmed, but similarly exceptional technique for his rank."

"All three are recruitment priorities," Oziel confirmed, his scarred face showing satisfaction. "Expert Low warriors who can defeat those above their rank through pure technical superiority will become formidable once their cultivation advances."

Several matches later, Ban's name was called again for the second qualifying match.

"Ban, Expert Low, versus Theren, Expert High. Fighting space two."

The red haired martial artist stepped forward again, his distinctive appearance drawing immediate attention from spectators who'd watched his previous victory. His expression showed no concern about facing another opponent above his rank, that same relaxed confidence evident as he approached the designated fighting space.

Theren was an experienced warrior whose cultivation aura marked him as Expert High, two sub ranks above Ban. He carried twin short swords, weapons suggesting he favored speed and precision over raw power. His expression showed wariness that suggested he'd been watching Ban's previous match carefully.

The referee signaled the match's beginning.

There didn't charge aggressively, instead circling cautiously while maintaining defensive position with his blades. He'd clearly learned from observing the previous fight, recognizing that straightforward assault would likely end badly.

Ban mirrored the movement, circling in the opposite direction while maintaining that distinctive breathing pattern. His hands remained in a loose guard position, body language suggesting complete relaxation despite facing an armed opponent.

The standoff lasted perhaps ten seconds before Theren attacked, launching a rapid combination with his twin blades. The strikes came from multiple angles simultaneously, sword work demonstrating considerable skill and coordination.

Ban's footwork carried him through the assault with that same flowing motion, body positioning itself where the blades couldn't reach despite seeming to move minimal distances. His counter came during a brief opening between Theren's combinations, fist targeting the warrior's wrist with precision that forced one sword to waver.

Theren disengaged immediately, recognizing he'd nearly lost control of his weapon. His expression tightened, frustration evident at being unable to land a clean hit despite his superior rank and dual weapon advantage.

They exchanged several more sequences, Theren attempting various approaches while Ban consistently evaded and countered with strikes targeting joints and pressure points. The pattern was becoming clear. Theren's skill was respectable for Expert High rank, but Ban's technical superiority was making the cultivation gap irrelevant.

The crowd watched with rapt attention, recognizing this was an even more impressive display than the first fight. There was clearly a more skilled opponent than Roderick had been, yet Ban was handling him with similar ease.

Raze observed every detail carefully, noting how Ban's movements seemed even more refined during this second match. As if having warmed up during the first fight, now operating at optimal efficiency. The breathing pattern remained absolutely consistent, that controlled rhythm never varying regardless of what his opponent attempted.

And his aura continued carrying that distinctive quality, cultivation energy shifting with each breath cycle in ways that enhanced his capabilities beyond what Expert Low rank should produce. Not dramatically stronger, but focused with precision that made every movement more effective.

Finally, after nearly three minutes of futile assault, Theren yielded. "Yield," he said, frustration mixing with grudging respect in his tone.

Ban stepped back, offering the same formal bow before returning to the competitors' section. His breathing had already returned to resting rhythm, that distinctive pattern continuing but without the enhanced quality it carried during active combat.

The crowd erupted in noise, spectators thoroughly impressed by witnessing Expert Low warrior defeat two opponents above his rank in succession. Conversations exploded about his technique, people debating how someone of his rank had developed such exceptional skill.

Similarly, Shiro was called for a second qualifying match against an Expert Peak opponent. The fight followed a similar pattern to his first, economical sword work and precise positioning allowing him to dominate warrior two sub ranks above him. The crowd's enthusiasm grew with each exceptional display, recognition spreading that this tournament was revealing genuine talent rather than simple power comparisons.

By the time Expert division qualifiers concluded, Berth, Ban, and Shiro had all advanced while establishing themselves as warriors worth watching closely. Three Expert Low cultivators who'd demonstrated capabilities exceeding their ranks through different but equally impressive techniques.

Raze's mind was working through implications. Ban and Berth clearly shared the same teacher, their breathing techniques and unarmed combat styles too similar to be coincidence. Shiro was different, sword specialist with his own distinctive approach, but equally exceptional for his rank.

Three warriors appearing at his tournament, all demonstrating capabilities that suggested training beyond what normal cultivation provided. The pattern was too clear to dismiss as chance.

Someone had sent them, or they'd come deliberately seeking his attention.

The question was why, and what they actually wanted beyond simple gold or employment.

The afternoon was transitioning toward evening as preparations began for the final qualifying division.

Logan appeared with his notebook. "Master division qualifiers begin shortly. Fourteen competitors, only two need elimination. Brief but likely spectacular."

"Any names worth noting?" Raze asked.

"Alvis," Logan replied. "Registered as Expert Peak but claiming Master Low capabilities. He'll face actual Master rank warriors in his qualifying match."

Raze's attention sharpened, another piece of the puzzle presenting itself.

The Master division qualifiers were about to begin.

And he suspected they would provide additional answers to questions he was only beginning to formulate properly.

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