The golden dragon’s phantom roared, charging towards the sword shadows riddled with spatial cracks.
“Boom!”
This collision was fiercer than any before.
The entire arena shook violently. The light of the “Spirit Locking Array” dimmed instantly, revealing countless cracks.
A terrifying shockwave spread outward. Despite the array’s barrier, many cultivators below the stage were shaken, their blood surging, forcing them to retreat dozens of steps.
As the dust slowly settled, the scene on the arena became clear to all.
Zhao Jingfeng knelt on one knee. His Sky-Splitting Sword was broken into several pieces. Covered in blood, his aura was as faint as a candle in the wind.
A deep, bone-revealing wound marked his chest, inflicted by Chen Ping’s “Dragon Ascend Style.”
In that earth-shaking clash, he had ultimately fallen short, defeated.
Silence fell, heavy as death.
No one spoke. All stared wide-eyed, faces filled with disbelief.
Chen Ping, a mere eighth-rank Loose Immortal, had defeated a sixth-rank Earth Immortal?
Even if it was a narrow victory, it was still a victory.
Leaning on his Dragon-Slaying Sword, Chen Ping’s face was pale, his chest heaving violently. Yet his eyes were sharp as an eagle’s, fixed on Zhao Jingfeng.
Using only swordsmanship, without other techniques or powers, Chen Ping owed his victory over Zhao Jingfeng to the sword skills taught by Mo Chen.
Zhao Jingfeng watched Chen Ping approach step by step, his eyes filled with fear and unwillingness.
He knew he had no strength left to resist.
“I… I surrender!”
Zhao Jingfeng, with his last ounce of strength, shouted hoarsely.
He didn’t want to die. As long as he lived, there was still a chance for revenge.
Chen Ping paused, looking at the defeated Zhao Jingfeng. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
He slowly raised his Dragon-Slaying Sword, as if to act, but ultimately restrained his killing intent.
After all, his opponent had surrendered. Killing him under the eyes of the crowd would invite criticism.
As Chen Ping’s wrist turned, preparing to sheathe his sword, a sudden cry rang out.
“Die!”
A vicious glint flashed in Zhao Jingfeng’s eyes. He pulled a poison-coated dagger from his chest, summoning all his remaining spiritual energy. With lightning speed, he stabbed at Chen Ping’s back!
It happened too fast for anyone to react.
“Careful!”
Ling Xue, Mo Chen, and others shouted in alarm, their hearts leaping to their throats.
When Chen Ping sensed the malicious wind behind him, it was too late.
He twisted his body to avoid vital points, but the dagger still pierced his left shoulder. A piercing pain, mixed with numbness, spread through his body.
“Pfft!”
Chen Ping spat out a mouthful of blood, staggering forward a few steps before steadying himself.
He turned slowly, his gaze on Zhao Jingfeng now devoid of hesitation, filled only with icy killing intent.
“You seek death!”
Chen Ping’s voice was like it came from the depths of the underworld, carrying a bone-chilling cold.
Zhao Jingfeng, seeing his sneak attack succeed, grinned savagely. “Hahaha! Chen Ping, you didn’t expect this, did you? The art of war is deception. This is the price of your naivety!”
He thought Chen Ping, poisoned, was doomed.
But the next second, his smile froze.
A radiant golden light erupted from Chen Ping’s body. A majestic dragon’s aura surged from within him, causing the entire arena to tremble under its pressure.
At his left shoulder’s wound, golden light pulsed, purifying the poison in an instant.
Zhao Jingfeng didn’t know that Chen Ping’s body was immune to all poisons.
“Dragon God’s Power…”
Chen Ping growled, his eyes revealing the shadow of dragon pupils. His aura surged, faintly showing signs of breaking through the Loose Immortal realm.
