Mythical Cultivation

By this point, Wu Ming had a clear idea of ​​his opponent's strength. After some introspection, he decided to hold back no longer and immediately unleash his true power. With a gentle wave of his right hand, the golden sword in his grasp suddenly burst into a dazzling radiance, splitting at astonishing speed into hundreds of incredibly sharp sword beams. These sword beams, like nimble dragons, whizzed through the air, wielding terrifying might as they fiercely struck Tan Haoying from all sides.

Faced with such an overwhelming and ferocious attack, Tan Haoying was terrified and tried to dodge hastily. However, to his despair, the dense sword lights seemed to block the entire space, leaving him no gap or path to escape.

Helpless, Tan Haoying gritted his teeth and strained his defenses. Without hesitation, he cast out several defensive talismans, simultaneously summoning the magical weapon he had always used as a protective shield. At this moment, he could only hope these defensive measures could withstand Wu Ming's devastating blow.

Unfortunately, Wu Ming launched an all-out attack this time, its power too powerful for Tan Haoying to withstand. In the blink of an eye, the three solid defensive barriers formed by the wooden shield talismans were instantly shattered like paper. Then, it was Tan Haoying's proud magical shield that was toppled. Although it resisted for several breaths, it was ultimately unable to withstand the terrifying force. With a crisp "crack", the shield completely shattered, and the magical weapon scattered to the side.

Fortunately, the sword light that swept in like a violent storm had already consumed a considerable amount of its energy and power, having previously broken through numerous obstacles. Otherwise, this single blow would have been enough to kill Tan Haoying instantly. Even so, the severely injured Tan Haoying could not escape unscathed. He violently spurted out several mouthfuls of bright red blood, his body flying backwards like a kite with its string cut, finally falling heavily to the ground. His eyes closed and he sank into a deep coma.

However, the remaining sword lights did not stop there. Like wild horses, they continued to gallop towards the unconscious Tan Haoying with fierce momentum. Seeing this scene, Wu Ming was shocked. It was only then that he realized that he had seriously overestimated his opponent's strength.

His expression suddenly changed, and he frantically tried to retract the flying sword beams, but it was too late. These sword beams were like spilled water; once released, they were difficult to retract. Fortunately, at this critical moment, the inner sect brother on the stage was quick-witted and swiftly unleashed his powerful true energy, forcibly blocking all the subsequent sword beams.

If this inner disciple had not come to the rescue in time, the hundreds of sword lights would have poured down mercilessly, and Tan Haoying would have surely suffered a tragic end with his body torn to pieces and no remains left.

"Junior Brother Wu Ming, this competition is just a mutual exchange between fellow disciples, not a life-and-death battle. Why do you have to use such cruel means!" The inner sect senior brother who successfully withstood Wu Ming's attack frowned slightly, showing displeasure, and said to Wu Ming in a deep voice.

In the eyes of this inner sect brother, Wu Ming's cultivation was clearly far superior to Tan Haoying's, but even so, he could still kill him, truly demonstrating his ruthlessness and cruelty to the extreme. Disgusted by this behavior and concerned for the safety of his fellow disciples, this inner sect brother couldn't help but remind Wu Ming, hoping he would understand the truth and refrain from such reckless and cruel behavior in the future.

"Senior brother, you really misunderstood me! How could I have thought that Senior Brother Tan Haoying couldn't even block this attack? It was really because I was too careless. I didn't control the strength of the attack well." When Wu Ming heard the question from the inner sect senior brother, he hurriedly explained with a guilty look on his face.

The inner sect senior brother had a gloomy face and stared at Wu Ming coldly for a long time before he squeezed out a sentence from between his teeth: "I hope so." After that, he said no more. He just looked at Wu Ming deeply and hurriedly left with the injured Tan Haoying. It seemed that he was going to find a place to heal him quickly.

Meanwhile, Wu Ming stood there, feeling a surge of regret. He had previously seen Tan Haoying reach the eighth level of Qi Refining, and had assumed his previous attack would only inflict minor injuries. Who could have imagined that Tan Haoying would be so vulnerable, being dealt such a heavy blow?

But then again, Wu Ming couldn't be blamed entirely for underestimating his opponent. After all, he'd been immersed in diligent cultivation for the past few years, and since successfully breaking through to the ninth level of Qi Refining, he hadn't even attacked once. Therefore, he had no accurate idea of ​​his current strength. As a result, when he attacked this time, he severely underestimated the immense power he'd gained from advancing from the eighth to the ninth level of Qi Refining.

However, Wu Ming was unaware that, given his current true strength, even an average ninth-level Qi Refining cultivator would likely be no match for him. He would only encounter a powerful individual who had reached the pinnacle of the ninth level, possessing immensely abundant zhenyuan, who might be able to suppress him with their profound zhenyuan. Alternatively, he might encounter veterans who, despite having reached the ninth level for many years but unable to achieve foundation building, constantly sought to enrich their combat methods. Only then might they be able to restrain him with their diverse techniques.

Unfortunately, Wu Ming didn't know this, and no one told him about it. He could only experience it himself in the subsequent battles.

"Wu Ming wins this match!" With this announcement, the entire arena fell silent. The deacon in charge of the arena stood at the sidelines like a statue, his gaze calmly scanning everything within.

His face was expressionless, his lips slightly parted, as he announced the result in a voice devoid of any emotion, as if the fierce competition and the outcome before him were nothing more than a passing cloud, unworthy of mention.

In the eyes of this deacon, such scenes were commonplace. Whether it was the contestants' all-out efforts or the possible pain and casualties, to him, they were merely the inevitable hardships of the path of cultivation.