Clearly, it was Zhao Jing’s body.
Crashing to the ground, spitting blood, Zhao Jing trembled violently, his face etched with sheer panic, as if he’d encountered something horrific, muttering, “How is this possible, how…”
In that moment, everyone was dumbfounded, faces filled with disbelief.
The impregnable bronze mirror, the formidable seed Zhao Jing, defeated?
By Lin Xiao, with third-grade advanced spiritual power? And in such a terrified state?
The crowd was stunned, let alone Yu Xiang, Jia Chao, and Xiahou Lan.
“It wasn’t spiritual power—it was the power released by the skeletal hand,” a sharp-eyed observer explained.
“Oh, so Lin Xiao’s skeletal hand is a powerful treasure?” someone asked, stunned.
“Lin Xiao used a mighty skeletal hand treasure, and Zhao Jing used his bronze mirror. Lin Xiao’s victory is deserved!” another marveled.
Nearby, the gray-robed seed Luo Zhong’s face grew grave, murmuring uncertainly, “A third-grade Spirit Controller wielding such power, breaking Zhao Jing’s defense?”
Beside him, Gu Xuanyuan’s eyes flickered. “That skeletal hand is eerie, its power extraordinary. But when Lin Xiao unleashed it, he seemed to suffer, showing signs of backlash.”
Luo Zhong relaxed slightly. A treasure’s power was indeed formidable.
But if a third-grade Spirit Controller could endlessly wield such a treasure against them, it’d unsettle these geniuses.
Good thing the skeletal hand had flaws.
And it was true—infusing third-grade spiritual power into the skeletal hand, Lin Xiao felt his power being drained, barely cutting the connection after one strike.
Across the arena, Xiahou Jing’s eyes chilled, elevating Lin Xiao’s threat level in her mind.
But only slightly.
“Lin Xiao wins. Zhao Jing, you can choose another opponent. Continue or wait for the next round?” the referee called.
“Stop!” Zhao Jing replied without hesitation, injured and at a disadvantage.
“Next, Mo Fei!”
The referee’s voice rang out, the crowd gasping. Another seed.
Mo Fei strode out boldly, his gaze first landing on the retreating Zhao Jing.
Zhao Jing’s loss to a new disciple made Mo Fei’s look carry disdain.
“Zhao Jing, fight me!” Mo Fei said with a faint smile.
“Damn it!” Zhao Jing felt murderous. Mo Fei was kicking him while he was down, taking advantage.
Worst was that disdainful smile.
It infuriated Zhao Jing. One loss, and they treated him like trash…
Fuming, Zhao Jing entered the arena.
This was the finals—one loss dropped your rank, with no chance to rematch the same opponent.
No way would Zhao Jing concede. He’d prove that, despite one loss, not just anyone could challenge him.
As expected, after a fierce battle, Mo Fei fell to Zhao Jing.
It underscored Zhao Jing’s strength—wounded, he still beat another seed.
It also highlighted Lin Xiao’s prowess.
Mo Fei was depressed. Losing to Zhao Jing, who’d lost to a new disciple, meant he was inferior to Lin Xiao?
He briefly considered challenging Lin Xiao to vent but recalled Lin Xiao catching Zhu Jian’s God-Slaying Three Arrows barehanded and his powerful skeletal hand, so he dropped the idea.
Another loss would disgrace him further as a seed.
Instead, he turned to others, challenging the nine non-seed veterans. Six conceded outright.
But the seventh, Yun Jiangnan, fought fiercely, forcing Mo Fei to expend more energy to win.
He’d planned to pick Liu Qing but gave up.
Fighting Liu Qing again would drain him too much, and he needed strength for the next seed’s challenge.
So, Liu Qing turned to new disciples.
First pick: Hu Yue.
Hu Yue’s illusions and Heavenly Spider Demon Silk nearly defeated him, but Mo Fei barely won with his strongest attack.
He nearly spat blood. Him, so disheveled, almost losing to an eighth-level Heavenly Martial new disciple…
He no longer dared mock Zhao Jing, his heart heavy with frustration. Where did this batch of monstrous new disciples come from?
Frustrated but done, Mo Fei retreated after beating Hu Yue.
The next disciple, a veteran from the top thirty, took the stage. Though all were geniuses and strong, their battles paled compared to the seeds’.
The fourth to fight was another seed, Xia Jianren.
Xia Jianren immediately challenged Mo Fei.
First, Mo Fei was injured and drained.
Second, Mo Fei’s loss to Zhao Jing and struggle against Hu Yue suggested he wasn’t that strong.
Xia Jianren’s gaze at Mo Fei mirrored Mo Fei’s earlier disdain toward Zhao Jing.
This infuriated Mo Fei, despised in turn.
But in their fight, Mo Fei lost, unable to turn the tables, deepening his frustration and denting his prestige. The next seed would likely pick him, too.
The thought enraged him.
The crowd found it thrilling. They increasingly appreciated this selection format.
With many strong opponents and rankings so crucial, no one would pass up an advantage.
An early number wasn’t always lucky!
After beating Mo Fei, Xia Jianren challenged Zhao Jing.
Mo Fei was weaker than Zhao Jing, but Zhao Jing had lost to a new disciple, so he was “weak” too.
Zhao Jing fought, equally frustrated, but proved he wasn’t weak, defeating Xia Jianren.
Now Xia Jianren was the one depressed.
Losing to Zhao Jing meant he was inferior to Lin Xiao?
