Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

Chapter 204: Before the Finals

Chen Ping and Zhai Jing stepped onto the ring and stood on opposite sides.

Zhai Jing drew her longsword, the blade gleaming with a faint white hue.

She looked at Chen Ping and spoke, her voice calm.

"My sword technique is called the Cold Pool Sword Art, but I have not yet grasped its true meaning."

Chen Ping nodded.

Zhai Jing said no more.

Holding his sword, he moved as nimbly as a swallow, closing in on the enemy.

A sword thrust out fiercely.

The Cold Pool Sword Technique unfolds, sword energy condenses, each strike faster and sharper than the last.

Where the sword tip passed, the qi left fine white streaks in the air that lingered for a long time.

Chen Ping didn't draw his sword; he simply dodged to the side, occasionally raising his hand to deflect the sword energy with his palm, his gaze fixed on Zhai Jing's sword. He was watching.

Zhai Jing performed the Cold Pool Sword Technique from the first move to the last move in its entirety.

He sheathed his sword and stood still.

Chen Ping frowned and remained silent for a few moments.

"I have little knowledge of the Yuan Gang Sword Technique, so I cannot help you comprehend its true meaning."

He looked at Zhai Jing.

"However, my true meaning is similar to yours; we belong to the same path. You can verify this for yourself."

Zhai Jing looked at him, her brows twitching slightly.

"Are you going to reveal your true intentions now?"

Chen Ping shook his head indifferently.

"What's there to hide?"

He reached down to his waist, loosened the opening of his scabbard, and the cleaver fell into his hand. Pointing the blade downwards, he gently touched the bluestone surface.

The next moment, he raised his knife and slowly made a cut.

It was neither fast nor heavy, and it couldn't even be considered a move.

But the moment that slash was made, the atmosphere on this massive arena completely changed.

Centered on Chen Ping, the air within a radius of several feet began to flow in his direction.

A pull deeper than the wind, like a deep abyss suddenly splitting open beneath the arena, dragging everything around it inward.

The true meaning of the tide.

The pebbles on the arena vibrated slightly and slowly slid down towards Chen Ping's feet.

The lingering Cold Pool Sword Qi left by Zhai Jing in the air was gently pulled away by that devouring force, peeled off strand by strand, dissolved, and swept into that invisible vortex.

Zhai Jing stood a few feet away and clearly felt that power.

It's the same thing as water.

Her icy pool is still, deep, and cold. Stagnant and unmoving, freezing to the bone. His tidal abyss is dynamic, deep, and swallowing. The tides surge ceaselessly, and all things return to the abyss.

One solidifies, the other devours.

Two completely different ways of water.

Chen Ping used the Tide Abyss Saber Technique to receive Zhai Jing's Cold Pool Sword Art, neither fast nor slow, each strike carrying the unique devouring power of the Tide Abyss True Meaning.

His swordsmanship was steady and powerful, like a surging tide, wave after wave, continuous and unbroken.

Zhai Jing drew her sword again and met the attack with the Cold Pool Sword Technique.

The two exchanged more than a dozen stabs.

Zhai Jing's swordplay became slower and slower.

She is the one feeling it.

Feel the flow of true meaning in Chen Ping's swordsmanship, its operational path, and its combination with the Qi.

After a few more cuts, Zhai Jing stopped.

She sheathed her sword, looked at Chen Ping, and remained silent for a moment. "What is the name of this true essence you possess?"

Chen Ping slammed the heavy horse-slaying sword onto the ground.

He uttered two words softly.

"Tide Abyss".

Zhai Jing silently repeated the two words and nodded.

Thank you.

"I surrender."

The deacon raised Chen Ping's hand.

"Chen Ping wins."

With the announcement of this result.

The audience did not erupt in thunderous cheers; instead, it was rather quiet.

To most laymen, the fight between the two seemed too refined and drawn-out, lacking the raw, visceral excitement of their previous matches. In the VIP section, several seasoned veterans of the martial arts world rubbed their chins, whispering amongst themselves.

"This true meaning is of high quality and should have the effect of absorbing qi."

"However, its offensive power doesn't seem to be too high; it leans more towards the support role."

"It is already extremely rare to be able to comprehend the true meaning at this age, so it is understandable that his killing power is not high."

Thinking this way, they categorized Chen Ping's Chaoyuan True Meaning as "of superior quality but with limited killing power".

At the edge of the arena, Master Fushan paused, adding two words to the paper.

The true meaning of the tide.

......

On the edge of the arena.

The burly instructor's voice rang out again.

"The second match."

"Wang Zhaoyao, face off against Fu Ci." The two stood up at the same time.

Fu Ci gripped his spear and glanced at Chen Ping.

Chen Ping nodded to him without saying anything.

Fu Ci turned around and walked towards the arena.

Wang Zhaoyao walked on the other side, holding a crimson spear in his hand, his steps unhurried.

The two stepped onto the ring and stood on opposite sides.

The atmosphere in the audience suddenly became tense.

After the deacon finished reading the rules, he left.

Wang Zhaoyao stood with his gun in hand, looking at Fu Ci opposite him, and suddenly smiled.

"Brother Fu."

"Let me see for myself your Broken Army Spear Intent."

He thrust the crimson spear forward, its tip crackling with fire-elemental energy, like an inextinguishable flame. "Relax."

Give it your all.

He looked into Fu Ci's eyes.

You can't hurt me.

Fu Ci did not respond.

His face was expressionless.

He simply gripped the spear tightly in his hand.

With a sharp flick of his wrist.

Moved.

Both spears thrust out simultaneously.

Crimson and jet-black clashed in the center of the arena, their energy exploding outwards, and waves of heat and sharpness spread in all directions.

Wang Zhaoyao's spear strikes were like a raging fire, one thrust after another, each imbued with flame. Fiery energy flowed along the shaft of his spear, each thrust leaving a trail of crimson flame that distorted the surrounding air. Fu Ci's spear strikes were like a thousand pounds pressing down, one heavy thrust after another. The intent of the Breaking Army Spear was concentrated at the tip of the spear, each strike feeling like chiseling through a mountain.

The two fought faster and faster.

Crimson and black gun shadows intertwined on the arena, the sounds of guns clashing forming a continuous line, the metallic hum making one's eardrums tingle.

This is an enjoyment unique to masters of marksmanship.

It was a pure clash of marksmanship, a battle of wits, one shot against another, a truly exhilarating experience.

The two fought with increasing gusto.

A smile played on Wang Zhaoyao's lips as his marksmanship grew increasingly unrestrained, with fire-elemental energy rising around him like a raging flame surging on the arena.

Fu Ci's face was cold and stern, but a glint of light flashed deep in his eyes. His marksmanship became more and more refined, and his intent to break through enemy lines grew stronger and stronger.

They corrected over a hundred moves.

Both of them erupted simultaneously.

Fu Ci unleashed the full power of his Breaking Army Spear, and an extremely sharp and fierce aura surged from his body, the qi on his spear condensing into a silver-white pillar of light, the tip of the spear pointing directly at Wang Zhaoyao.

Crimson flames suddenly surged from Wang Zhaoyao's body. A raging inferno of spear intent.

Like a wildfire spreading, its momentum is unstoppable.

The air above the ring was distorted by the heat, and those in the stands who were close by were forced to shrink back by the heatwave.

Someone in the VIP area stood up, driven by the heatwave.

It looked as if a wildfire had been ignited.

Wang Zhaoyao laughed loudly and flicked the tip of his spear.

Crimson energy condensed at the tip of the spear, transforming into a fiery tornado that roared and spun, eventually becoming a scorching spear shadow that pierced towards Fu Ci.

Fu Ci thrust his spear straight out.

All the intent of the Breaking Army Spear was poured into this one shot.

A single spear thrust pierced through the fiery spear shadow.

The gunshot shattered at the tip of his gun, breaking into countless sparks.

Fu Ci's pupils contracted slightly. The shattered sparks did not dissipate.

They paused in mid-air for a moment, then rapidly coalesced, re-forming the spear shadow.

It's brighter and hotter than before.

Before Fu Ci could retract his gun, the newly formed fiery spear shadow slammed directly into his chest.

boom.

Fu Ci's body flew backward, sliding more than ten feet across the arena. His protective aura shattered, and a patch of his clothes was charred.

Wang Zhaoyao casually kicked the gun barrel lightly with his toe.

He steadily retrieved the crimson spear.

The flame on the tip of the gun slowly dimmed and went out.

He looked at Fu Ci lying in a pool of blood in the distance, the smile on his face still lingering.

There was no contempt or mockery from the victors.

"A raging fire spreads endlessly." He sheathed his spear at his side.

"Brother Fu, this battle was thoroughly enjoyable."

Fu Ci put away his gun, knelt on one knee, and panted heavily.

He looked up at Wang Zhaoyao.

Yangzhou.

He paused for a moment.

"When we get to the battlefield, we'll start over."

The flame in Wang Zhaoyao's hand was completely extinguished.

He nodded.

"it is good."

Deacon, please.

"Wang Zhaoyao wins."

The final match is scheduled for two hours later.

The ball went unclaimed.

The audience did not disperse; tens of thousands of people sat there quietly, waiting.

Some people went out and bought food and came back, some leaned back in their seats and closed their eyes to rest, and some whispered to the people next to them, but no one left.

There were only two people left in the waiting area.

Chen Ping sat on the left, eyes closed, circulating the Blazing Sea True Scripture, his inner energy slowly flowing through his meridians.

Wang Zhaoyao sat on the right, eyes closed, breathing steadily, his aura gradually sinking down, as if accumulating something.

There was an empty aisle between them, and neither of them spoke.

In the VIP area.

Qin Ya held the teacup but didn't drink it. He tapped his fingers lightly on his knee, once, once.

He Qingshan leaned back in his chair, his left arm bandaged, and chuckled as he looked at the empty bluestone surface of the arena. He remained silent. Cui Qingyi looked at the two figures sitting upright with their eyes closed in the waiting area, and unusually, she didn't speak either, the smile on her lips fading.

Cui Qingwei glanced at his sister, swallowed the candied fruit in his mouth, and sat up straight.

The paper on Master Fushan's lap was spread out, and the pen was suspended in the air, not falling.

He is waiting.

Waiting for the final stroke of this competition.

The burly instructor in charge of bringing up the rear solemnly took out the neatly folded old gray robe from his bosom.

The vice president's old robe.

He bent down and placed it with utmost respect beneath the stone pillar.

The two characters "Cangwu" face the sky.

A gust of autumn wind howled across the empty arena.

The hem of the old robe fluttered slightly in the wind.

Two hours. Very quickly.

It's also very slow.

The sun moved westward an inch from overhead, then another inch.

The shadows on the arena grew longer and longer, stretching from west to east.

at last.

The burly instructor stood up and walked to the center of the ring.

This time.

He didn't go to get the divination sticks.

I didn't read anyone's name either.

It's no longer needed.

Everyone in the room knew who it was.

He stood there, looked around, and took a deep breath. "The final!"