Someone lit a Black Stone.
On the stage of the Three Gates, some managed to hold on for more than three rounds, but in the end, they were all sent flying down.
Some passed the assessment, some failed, and then, continuously, more came forward; the scene was exceptionally lively, with the crowd's noise rising and falling in waves.
At this moment, hundreds of meters away from the Southern Market Entrance, in a room at a tavern, a handsome youth dressed in fine white garments, with slender eyebrows, stood by the window, looking down at the bustling scene with a hint of disdain.
Behind him, two pretty maids in purple gauze skirts were fanning and massaging his shoulders, and an old servant stood to the side, slightly bent over.
"Young Master, the Ninth Mountain Army's recruitment has begun. The Family Head has made his instructions clear; it's time for you to take the stage," the old servant reminded him at this moment.
