Every year, during the finals of the Rank-Ascending Competition, the betting market opened—and it was always a high-stakes affair. Some families became overnight billionaires, while others lost everything.

Since Star Alliance itself hosted the betting pool, there was no limit to how much you could wager, so the numbers involved were staggering.

While the crowd outside the mist was going wild placing bets, inside the fog lay a massive mountain. All across the slopes were stone-built structures, clearly the product of some grand architectural feat.

Whoever had designed it hadn't just built on the mountain—they had turned the entire mountain into a fortress-like city.

Felix stood at the base, with the nearest competitors over half a mile away on either side. At his current level, that distance shouldn't have affected his vision at all—yet the others appeared as nothing more than vague silhouettes, just barely human-shaped.

This was the doing of the white mist. According to the rule