Mythical Cultivation

Just as Wu Ming and his companions were enthusiastically discussing which disciples to focus their attention on, the moment of Wu Ming's competition finally arrived. Amidst the sincere wishes of his companions, Wu Ming resolutely stepped onto the ring. However, only a moment later, his opponent also stepped onto the ring. He was tall, slightly thin, and appeared to be middle-aged.

At this moment, the number of disciples gathered below the stage to watch the match had already reached a considerable number, numbering as many as seventy or eighty. Some of these disciples had gathered because they remembered Wu Ming. Curious, they wanted to witness for themselves whether Wu Ming's success was due to pure luck or genuine strength. Others, however, had simply come to join in the fun. For them, they flocked to the most exciting matches.

"The man opposite looks so young, and I've never heard of his name before. So Xiang Long is sure to win this time!" A disciple who knew nothing about Wu Ming shouted excitedly.

Meanwhile, another disciple who knew how Wu Ming had won the previous rounds of competition shook his head and sighed, "Alas, Wu Ming's luck has probably run out. In my opinion, this is where he'll stop." After all, when this disciple saw that Wu Ming's opponent this time was Xiang Long, a very prestigious disciple from the previous session, he made this judgment without hesitation.

However, just as everyone was discussing, a different voice suddenly came from the crowd: "I don't think so. For some reason, I always have a strong premonition that Wu Ming can't have come this far just by relying on luck. Moreover, I always feel that Wu Ming's true strength seems to have not been fully revealed so far." The person who spoke was a middle-aged man with a very sharp and accurate intuition. He narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at the two people in the field thoughtfully.

The crowd's chattering didn't bother Wu Ming in the slightest. When the referee's resounding "The competition begins," Wu Ming instantly entered his state. He skillfully summoned his defensive artifact, the White Cloud Banner. Upon its release, the banner instantly transformed into a snow-white cloud, tightly surrounding Wu Ming, forming an impenetrable protective barrier.

Immediately, Wu Ming unleashed his Golden Light Sword without hesitation, unleashing his impressive Qingyun Sword Technique. Like a flash of lightning, he charged towards Xiang Long. Meanwhile, Xiang Long, not to be outdone, similarly swiftly summoned his own protective magical device. In the blink of an eye, a shield emitting a faint green light enveloped him. Then, Xiang Long, also forming a sword gesture, unleashed the Qingyun Sword Technique, charging towards Wu Ming.

In an instant, a dazzling light shone above the arena. Hundreds of golden sword beams roared through the air like golden dragons, while hundreds of green sword beams, like delicate leaves, glided gracefully through the air. The two contrasting hues of sword light intertwined and collided, emitting countless brilliant sparks that illuminated the entire arena like a dreamlike wonderland, presenting a dazzling spectacle.

At this moment, a voice of surprise suddenly came from the crowd: "Huh, I didn't expect Wu Ming to also be at the ninth level of Qi Refining?" The person who spoke was a middle-aged cultivator with a weathered face. He himself was at the ninth level of Qi Refining, so with just one glance, he could accurately judge from the fierce battle between the two that their strength was equal.

Upon hearing this, someone nearby immediately chimed in, "I've always said Wu Ming must have real skills, but you just never believed it!"

However, another voice responded with some helplessness: "Who would have thought that he would hide his true cultivation so deeply!" This voice came from a short and fat middle-aged monk. At this moment, he was staring at the battle situation on the ring with wide eyes, his face full of disbelief.

Hundreds of sword beams clashed fiercely in mid-air, and for a moment, it was difficult to determine the winner, resulting in a stalemate. However, both men engaged in the fierce battle knew that this confrontation was merely a test, and the true thrilling contest had just begun!

At that moment, Xiang Long suddenly extended a hand and rapidly executed a magical spell. Instantly, several transparent blades, as thin as silkworm wings, silently flew from his grasp. Taking advantage of the stalemate between the two flying swords, they streaked towards Wu Ming across from him like lightning. This was Xiang Long's specialty, the Ice Blade technique. Because these blades were condensed from pure ice-type spiritual energy, they appeared completely transparent. Without careful observation, they could easily be overlooked. In countless previous battles, Xiang Long had often used this strange technique to launch unexpected attacks, leaving his opponents completely defenseless.

However, Wu Ming was clearly no ordinary warrior. As he keenly sensed the faint threat, he immediately and without hesitation, erected several solid defensive barriers in front of him. Then, with a thought, a small, exquisite inkstone instantly soared into the air, bearing down with immense force directly towards Xiang Long. Wu Ming knew full well that this move alone wouldn't pose a significant threat to the powerful Xiang Long, but it would at least provide some distraction, creating favorable conditions for the next attack.

At the same time, Wu Ming's single-handed technique rapidly changed again. In the blink of an eye, a series of blazing fireballs the size of heads suddenly appeared out of thin air in the space between them. These fireballs connected closely, forming a straight line of fire, which rushed towards Xiang Long with overwhelming force.

Faced with such a fierce attack, Xiang Long naturally didn't dare to be careless. He suddenly turned, attempting to evade the attack by nimbly changing his position. Unfortunately, at this moment, under the terrifying pressure released by the Mountain and River Inkstone above his head, Xiang Long's usual agility was involuntarily slowed down, and he was unable to completely avoid it.