Chapter 121: The Grim Ordeal

The first battle of the round of thirty-two began amidst thunderous cheers from the crowd.

At that moment, two formidable young masters swiftly ascended the arena platform.

“Liu Ming!”

“Wang Fan!” The two exchanged names.

Liu Feng glanced at the young man in white on the platform—the one named Liu Ming, whose delicate features stood out—and he couldn’t help but be slightly taken aback. “That’s the young man we met at the ‘Good Luck Inn.’ He’s made it to the top sixty-four in the tournament.”

“Indeed! I never expected him to be so strong,” Zhao Bochao said with surprise.

“Talents from the four nations emerge in abundance; we must not underestimate anyone,” Zhao Jun remarked thoughtfully. His injury had healed about forty to fifty percent, but he was still unable to engage in intense combat.

Meanwhile, on the arena platform, Liu Ming and Wang Fan began cautiously probing each other’s defenses.

Wang Fan struck first. With a flick of his hand, a long staff of bluish-golden metal shimmered into existence in his palm. Its surface radiated strange, mesmerizing luster, the exact metal unknown.

Gripping the staff with both hands, he unleashed a fierce horizontal sweep. Countless afterimages of the staff surged forward with the overwhelming force of a tidal wave, crashing toward Liu Ming. Even the air was sliced, producing a piercing whistle.

Liu Ming, eyes fixed on the sweeping staff, extended his hand forward, thrusting a verdant spear. A sharp green gleam shot forth like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, piercing through the dense staff shadows.

“Bang! Bang!”

The green spear’s brilliance shattered the myriad staff afterimages before striking Wang Fan’s staff directly.

“Boom!”

The collision erupted with explosive force. The green spear’s radiance burst apart, and Wang Fan was pushed back a step by the impact.

Seizing the moment, Liu Ming took a large stride forward, quickly closing the distance. With both hands gripping his spear, he smashed it horizontally with tremendous power, the shaft crashing down like a boulder aimed fiercely at Wang Fan’s head.

Though shaken back, Wang Fan’s expression remained calm and steady. Watching the descending spear, he planted his staff upright, meeting the blow squarely.

“Clang!”

The deafening clash of metal rang out. Both warriors trembled and staggered backward.

They steadied themselves, no longer rushing attacks, instead locking eyes with fierce intensity, silently assessing each other’s strength.

“These two have considerable skill; their cultivation has reached the third stage of the Yin-Yang Realm,” Zhao Jun observed, his gaze fixed on the combatants.

“They’re merely testing each other now. Their true strength must be far beyond this,” Zhao Bochao speculated.

Liu Feng nodded. “Judging by their composed demeanor just now, both should possess power at the fourth stage of the Yin-Yang Realm.”

“Impressive.”

“Very strong!” Zhang Liang and Wang Xing also voiced admiration.

At this point, Wang Fan suddenly broke the silence. “No need to waste more time testing. Let us both unleash our full strength and settle this once and for all.”

“Agreed! That’s exactly what I intend. Meteor Strike!” Liu Ming shouted fiercely. His spear danced like a flying azure dragon, the piercing gleam akin to divine retribution, striking like lightning toward Wang Fan’s chest.

“Earthshaking Sweep!” Wang Fan roared inwardly, surging fierce true energy into his staff. It radiated dazzling bluish-golden light as he swung it horizontally with the force of autumn leaves swept away by the wind, aiming at Liu Ming’s body.

“Clang!”

The spear tip struck the staff, sparking a cascade of fiery sparks. Liu Ming twisted his wrist; the spear slid along the staff, its tip slicing forward like a razor blade towards Wang Fan’s neck.

Wang Fan watched the spearhead swiftly cutting along his staff. With a sharp upward flick, his staff clanged, deflecting Liu Ming’s spear.

“Falling Star!” Wang Fan broke away from the spear and suddenly leapt upward, soaring over five meters high. With a fierce shout, he swung his staff downwards with overwhelming force.

Infused with surging true energy, the staff blazed with blinding light, like a burning meteor hurtling downward, carrying a violent, unmatched shockwave, crashing rapidly toward Liu Ming’s head.

“Meteor Extinction!” Liu Ming shouted in fury. His true energy whirled wildly, converging at the spear’s tip, which radiated a sharp, destructive glow.

Gripping the spear with both hands, he thrust forward, the spear bursting with dazzling light like a meteor streaking across the sky. The tip collided lightning-fast against Wang Fan’s staff.

“Clang!”

The spear and staff collided fiercely, sending showers of sparks flying. The violent force erupted like a volcanic explosion, sweeping outward and carving deep craters across the arena platform.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

After the strike, both warriors staggered but quickly charged at each other again. Their spear and staff clashed repeatedly, each strike infused with overwhelming power.

“Looks like the winner will be decided soon,” Liu Feng said quietly, his eyes flickering as he watched the two.

“Incredible! Their attack power must have reached the fifth stage of the Yin-Yang Realm by now,” Zhao Jun whispered in awe.

“After so many rounds of elimination, only elites remain. It’s normal for them to transcend their ranks in battle,” Zhao Bochao said calmly.

“Boom!”

The two exchanged a final thunderous blow.

The crowd saw one figure soar through the air before crashing heavily onto the platform, blood spurting from his mouth—a grievously wounded man. The other stood firm, staff in hand, a slender wound bleeding from his abdomen.

“Wang Fan wins,” the referee declared.

“The fight was truly brutal.”

“Yes, one fell heavily injured, the other nearly pierced through the abdomen,” murmured the spectators, astonished by the severity of the injuries.

The two wounded were carried off by the city lord’s guards and quickly handed over to their respective sects for treatment.

“Liu Feng!”

“Zhao Yu!” The two exchanged names.

“Liu Feng is facing a woman this round. I wonder if he can really fight without holding back.”

“He must give his all! An opponent is an opponent, regardless of gender.”

“Exactly! Never underestimate a woman, or you’ll be the one to suffer.”

Zhao Jun and the others began discussing Liu Feng’s opponent as they gazed toward the platform.

Liu Feng assessed his adversary. She wore white robes, her features pure and ethereal, exuding a chilling aura as cold as frost—an aura that forbade approach.

At the signal, the white-robed woman Zhao Yu struck first. Her fingers weaved intricate seals rapidly. Moments later, her hands trembled, releasing a surge of blue energy that spiraled swiftly toward Liu Feng.