Apocalypse: The Primordial Pearl Recognizes Its Master, Starting with Infinite Space

On the high platform, Zuo Qianqiu stroked his beard and glanced at Wang Batian, naturally not missing the momentary stiffness on the other's face.

He sneered inwardly, "This Fatty Wang is indeed a treacherous villain."

Then he became worried: "Was I too overconfident this time? This little disciple almost failed. Was I... too hasty?"

On the stage, Lin Chen had regained his composure and looked up at Xu Yanqiu and the others, his eyes becoming sharp.

Come and don't go indecent.

Without waiting for the other party to make another move, this time he chose to take the initiative!

With a single step, he swiftly rushed towards the disciple responsible for preventing airborne attacks behind the arena.

Upon seeing this, Xu Yanqiu and the others tensed up and quickly used their movement techniques to rush forward.

The fastest group consisted of those who had mastered the laws of speed. They closely followed Lin Chen and appeared in front of him. At the same time, three swords were thrust out to block Lin Chen's progress.

Lin Chen did not stop.

The longsword in his hand was already imbued with the laws of metal and power, and the laws of flesh and blood were also surging within him. His power and his aura had reached their peak, making him resemble a ferocious humanoid beast.

Not satisfied with that, he suddenly unleashed an incredibly powerful aura.

The three people blocking the way simultaneously sensed a sudden change in the aura of the figure opposite them.

The once agile sword suddenly became heavy, as if a mountain had pressed down on it.

Deep within Lin Chen's sea of ​​consciousness, the light condensed from the protective sword intent suddenly shone brightly. Something warm, substantial, and heavy surged up his arm along his meridians and into the sword.

For the first time, he unleashed this sword intent in a real battle. There were no fancy variations, no probing or holding back; he simply slashed down with his sword.

An extremely heavy sword intent enveloped the sword, and the entire longsword emitted a deep humming sound, like an old bell ringing.

The space that had been sealed off by this sword strike emitted a muffled sound.

The three hurriedly raised their swords to block, but the moment they managed to parry, their faces turned pale.

Their twelfth-tier strength, which they had originally cultivated with elixirs, was as fragile as paper before this sword strike. At the same time, they also sensed the aura of death emanating from this sword.

Invincible!

Unstoppable!

But it was too late!

With a loud clang, the three men's divine swords broke in two.

The sword's momentum had not diminished, and it struck the three men's armor heavily. The three figures flew backward like kites with broken strings, their speed so fast that their forms became blurred.

Before the disciple responsible for preventing air travel could react, he was hit squarely by three fellow disciples and fell off the stage.

Four muffled thuds rang out simultaneously.

A shower of debris shattered on the stone slab outside the arena, and the four men crashed heavily to the ground. The stone slab cracked instantly, creating a shallow pit half a foot deep. The four men coughed up blood, collapsed in the pit, and immediately passed out.

The area around the arena fell silent.

The audience in the stands of the various factions were also stunned. The disciples of the Green Wood Sect stared wide-eyed, even forgetting to help the four unconscious disciples.

A moment later, a commotion erupted.

"That's... sword intent?"

"It really is sword intent! It's definitely sword intent!"

"He's been holding back for so long without using it?"

The shouts of the rogue cultivators rose and fell, and countless people in the stands stood up, their eyes fixed on the figure who had sheathed his sword and stood still on the arena.

The power of that sword strike was witnessed by everyone present. It was no longer a matter of technique; it was a manifestation of the essence of swordsmanship. It was a sword intent that had reached its peak and had developed its own character and temperament!

Han Fei was the first to jump up, and he yelled at the top of his lungs towards the ring:

"Junior Uncle is awesome!"

Zhang Han and Wu Muyang followed suit and shouted as well, the three of them trying to outdo each other, each shout louder than the last.

The disciples of the Crimson Cloud Sect were also stirred up, and a thunderous roar spread from one corner of the stands, making the entire arena vibrate.

At the registration desk at the entrance of Fengyun City, Pei Zhiyuan, who had been slumped over the table, was now sitting upright.

He glanced towards the arena from across most of the city, muttering to himself, "Where did Han Fei find this monster... He's only been here a short time, and he's already grasped sword intent?"

In mid-air, the expressions of the nine clones of the thirteenth-level powerhouses also darkened.

On the stage, Xu Yanqiu and the other six people were ashen-faced.

Lin Chen had already turned around, his face "pale," and walked towards them step by step.

The longsword in his hand shone with a rich golden light once more, its sword intent still lingering, ready to strike.

The six of them exchanged a glance, their legs feeling weak.

The lingering force of that sword strike still weighed on their hearts. Although Lin Chen looked "weak" and on the verge of collapse, none of them dared to entertain the thought of resisting.

The golden sword, in their eyes, didn't seem to be held by someone who was about to exhaust themselves; rather, it seemed as if it could unleash a second strike at any moment.

Then they moved... All six of them turned around at the same time and ran off the stage without looking back.

Upon seeing this scene, Lin Chen paused, then frowned slightly as he pondered.

There was a moment of silence below the ring, followed by bursts of laughter and boos.

Six disciples of the Green Wood Sect stood below the stage, their faces flushed, but none of them dared to turn around and look at them again.

On the stage, with a clang, Lin Chen's longsword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, causing him to fall backward.

He had to fall; his outburst had been too intense, and he was afraid of scaring the next batch of opponents.

Sure enough, when He Yunzheng saw Lin Chen's longsword fall to the ground and his body hit the ground, his tense heart immediately relaxed.

As the host, Liang Kuan had been watching his movements closely. He swiftly caught him and gently supported him, asking, "Junior Brother, how are you?"

Lin Chen put his arm around his shoulder, his face pale and his lips trembling slightly: "Big...Senior Brother, I'm fine, it's just that I'm a bit exhausted, too...tired."

As he said this, the fingers resting on Liang Kuan's shoulder pressed down twice more.

Liang Kuan immediately understood, but showed no sign of it on his face. Instead, his voice trembled slightly: "Junior Brother, how about... we stop competing? You're exhausting yourself like this!"

Lin Chen forced himself to straighten up, taking a couple of unsteady breaths: "No... I haven't lost yet... I can still fight!"

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried a stubbornness that the rogue cultivators around the arena heard clearly, and immediately a chorus of cheers erupted.

Liang Kuan chuckled inwardly, but his face still wore a pained expression as he helped him stand up steadily before letting go and stepping aside.

Lin Chen bent down to pick up the longsword, leaned on the hilt, and stood there, his chest heaving, his gaze fixed on the last stand.

On the stands of the Boundless Sect, He Yunzheng looked calm and collected. The seven disciples he had chosen exchanged glances and flew straight onto the arena.