Observing Wanfa from the martial arts school servants

Chapter 72 The War Begins 1

The next day, before dawn, the area around the drill ground was already packed with people.

It's hard to even find a place to stand on the earthen slope.

The teenagers climbed all over the branches of the old locust tree.

Before dawn, the girls of Drunken Red Mansion rushed to occupy the high ground on the east side in their carriages. Rouge lifted the curtain and counted the huge crowd of people below the stage.

Old Wang, who sells sesame cakes, simply pushed his oven cart to the entrance of the drill ground. The steamers were stacked higher than a person, and the steam rose like mist in the morning light.

Old Sun, the tea seller, has changed his signboard, and the charcoal handwriting is even more crooked than yesterday.

"The top 16 martial arts students will advance to the top 8," followed by a simple drawing of a little person throwing a punch.

The clerks at Chang Le Gambling House were sweating profusely as they squeezed through the crowd, the copper trays in their hands clanging as coins were struck.

Shouting out the odds: "Quan Feng is 1 to 1! Yan Hua is 1 to 1! Hei Wuchang is 1 to 2!"

Several dockworkers squatted on the edge of the earthen slope, arguing incessantly.

"I heard from the people at Changfeng Martial Arts School that Yan Hua has reached the Transformation Realm. He has a top-notch talent and has reached the Transformation Realm. He is one of a kind."

Another dark-faced man bet on Black Impermanence: "Black Impermanence even defeated a great demon incarnation, how could Yan Hua be as ruthless as a great demon?"

An old gambler next to him shoved a coin into the waiter's hand and then pressed on, "The Quan family spread rumors last night that Quan Feng has also reached the level of a martial artist? Why are the odds still 1 to 1?"

The waiter didn't even look up: "The game has just ended, the odds haven't been adjusted yet. Hurry up and place your bets, or the odds won't be the same."

Sixteen martial artists formed a circle in the center of the arena.

As soon as he stepped onto the stage, Lin Mu saw Yan Hua.

Yan Hua stood on the opposite side of the arena, dressed in white as snow, with his hands behind his back, his expression indifferent as ever.

The morning light shone on him, illuminating every contour of his face clearly.

Her skin was snow-white and flawless, and her bones and muscles were intact.

Last night's fight was as if it had never happened.

Lin Mu frowned slightly.

Yan Hua's gaze swept past the throng of people, searching for Lin Mu's figure.

Quan Feng's white robe stood out among the crowd of people dressed in short, tight-fitting clothes. He still looked like he hadn't woken up yet, with half a blade of grass in his mouth, showing no signs of having been knocking on the gate the night before.

Of the sixteen people, six or seven wore masks of various colors: tiger heads, leopard heads, eagle heads, wolf heads, owl heads, and Black Impermanence. The colorful masks were particularly dazzling in the morning light.

The onlookers on the sidelines were buzzing with discussion.

"Why are there so many people wearing masks at the martial arts exam this year?"

A man munching on sunflower seeds chimed in, "Rogue cultivators are afraid of making enemies. But that Black Impermanence is really wicked; even Fox Mask fell for him. I think he'll make it into the top eight today."

Several more gazes fell upon Black Impermanence from the stage.

Duanmu Hong sat upright on the high platform, his plain face and black robe remaining motionless in the morning breeze.

He stood up, his gaze slowly sweeping over the sixteen people below the stage, and then he flicked his sleeve.

"start."

At the start, the sixteen people fought each other in pairs, and the scene was relatively orderly.

Quan Feng faced off against Ye Zhaoxi from Zhenshan Martial Arts School. The two were from the same school and both used Zhenshan Fist. Their combined force caused the rammed earth of the arena to tremble.

Although Ye Zhaoxi's stance was stable, Quan Feng's Zhenshan Fist was already superior to his, and after knocking on the gate last night, his explosive power had reached a new level. He suppressed Ye Zhaoxi's offensive with just three or five punches.

Lin Mu wore a black mask and wielded a long spear, the tip of which gleamed with a cold, white light in the morning sun.

His opponent was Li Hu, a rogue cultivator from another county who wielded a twelve-foot-long axe and whose internal strength followed the path of collapse.

This man was nine feet tall, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, and his long axe weighed at least a hundred pounds. The axe blade gleamed with a cold, deep light in the morning sun.

During the selection competition in another county, he smashed a half-zhang square bluestone slab into dust with a single axe, fought his way into the top sixteen, and broke the weapons of countless martial artists under his command.

Li Hu's axe strikes were extremely heavy, each strike carrying a cracking, hidden force.

It wasn't the kind of progressive, overwhelming force like Quan Feng's, but rather pure, crushing power. With a single axe strike, the bluestone slab shattered into fragments.

He was already incredibly strong, and his external martial arts skills made him invulnerable to blades and spears. Last time, when a rogue martial artist with internal strength stabbed him with a dagger at close range, the dagger chipped, but he didn't even break his skin.

His only weakness is his slow speed, but his axe blade is extremely wide, and a single sweep can block out most of the arena.

Lin Mu's spear was deflected as soon as it was raised, and he took three steps back after blocking three axe blows. The spiraling force on the spear shaft was shaken by the force of the blow.

With a twist of his wrist, the tip of the spear grazed Li Hu's axe handle and slid down, the spiraling force drilling into the axe handle along the spear shaft.

Before Lin Mu could fully utilize his axe stance, he touched the handle of Li Hu's axe with the tip of his spear, using the force to bend the spear shaft into an arc. The rebounding force, combined with the waist strength, was twisted into a single force, and the spear tail swept out horizontally, striking Li Hu's knee squarely.

Li Hu grunted and knelt on one knee. Before he could stand up, Lin Mu pressed the tip of his gun against his throat.

Li Hu slammed his axe on the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

At this moment, the leopard-headed masked warrior's opponent circled around to Lin Mu's left. The leopard head raised a claw to force the opponent back, but the claw's edge swept precisely towards Lin Mu's ribs.

This claw strike was extremely powerful. On the surface, it appeared to be a grappling move with his opponent, but in reality, it shortened the distance between him and Lin Mu.

Almost simultaneously, in the brief moment after exchanging blows with his opponent, the tiger-masked martial artist, with a gust of wind, rammed into Lin Mu's sideways path, creating a gap in Li Hu's previously blocked way.

Both moves were executed extremely discreetly; the surrounding audience only saw the two men fighting their respective opponents and couldn't discern anything amiss.

But Lin Mu frowned behind the mask.

These masked people are looking out for each other.

Before Tiger Head could even steady himself after turning around and stopping his opponent, Lin Mu's spear tip darted back and struck his chest.

Tiger Head froze, raised his hands, and quickly retreated.

Lin Mu then used his elbow to strike, causing Leopard Head to stagger two steps to the side.

Leopard Head took two steps back, a cold glint flashing in his eyes hidden behind the leopard head mask. He paused slightly, then turned back to continue the fight.

Yan Hua fought extremely fiercely from the very beginning.

He was facing a rogue cultivator with hidden strength, and as soon as the opponent opened his fist stance, he blasted him back.

After a few punches, the rogue cultivator's arm guards were deformed, and he was blasted off the stage, bleeding from his mouth and nose. He was then helped off by the palace guards.

The other rogue cultivator who faced him fared even worse. He took a palm strike from Yan Hua, and the wrist bone in his entire right arm broke on the spot. The white bone fragments pierced his skin, and he collapsed on the arena, convulsing as he crawled away. When he was dragged away, a long trail of blood was left on the bluestone slab.

Yan Hua showed no mercy to the two rogue cultivators, his fists carrying the destructive power unique to the Transformation Realm, one strike could break bones and shatter tendons.

Today, Yan Hua's eyes revealed a bloodthirsty glint.

Those with the bloodline of a great demon are inherently more bloodthirsty than ordinary martial artists, and Yan Hua, having lost a life, has become even more demonic.

Duanmu Hong sat on the high platform, watching Yan Lin's actions with a furrowed brow. His right thumb and forefinger gripped the teacup lid, ready to intervene at any moment.