Ling Wuxie waited, and soon saw a burly young man step forward. His body was full of muscles, his height was great, resembling a bull.
Seeing the big guy, Ling Wuxie's nerves tensed. He was intimidating, but still beatable.
"Want to fight me, Brother Mao?" he smiled naively, getting up from the ground, then pointed at him with a finger. "The twenty spirit stones, do you have them?"
"Yeah. Are you really going to keep your promise?" the young Mao asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Of course... I don't lie! And I won't stain my family's reputation either." Ling Wuxie made a serious face, tightening his tiny fists, showing confidence. Then he looked at the crowd.
"Right?"
The others frowned, but nodded. One of them muttered:
"This little devil is telling the truth! But when it comes to fighting, don't expect anything fair. He always uses tricks to win! Last time, he used a drowsy mist bomb."
"And the time he used hidden needles?"
"Well... Every time he gets a new artifact, he uses us from the school as test subjects. What's this little devil brought this time?"
They grew curious, and soon all attention turned to the two. Ling Wuxie, hearing the crowd, scratched his head, a little embarrassed.
As for young Mao, he frowned. At the same time, his eyes turned, lost in thought, trying to imagine something. 'Well, I accept.'
In the end, he gave in and pulled out twenty spirit stones from the cloth pouch tied to his waist, placing them on the ground.
Ling Wuxie, seeing that, smiled. 'This guy is strong… According to the rumors, his main technique is the Bronze Body… And his cultivation is at the Third Level of the Qi and Blood Realm… I'm one level below, but with my sword, I have the advantage.'
Trusting that, he looked at the young Mao. "Shall we begin?"
"Okay." Nodding, the young Mao flexed his muscles, thunderous sounds echoed from his body, and soon a layer of bronze covered his skin.
Ling Wuxie, seeing that, blinked, thinking the young man a bit rude for starting full-force, without giving any advantage. Where was the martial etiquette, going easy on the younger ones?
'I can't fall behind either.' He didn't underestimate himself and placed his hand on his sword, though he didn't draw it—not yet.
Ahead, young Mao wanted to end it as fast as possible. After activating his technique, he dashed at great speed toward the boy. His hand reached for his robe, trying to lift him.
Seeing the first move and the speed of the attack, Ling Wuxie stayed calm. He leaned back, ducking low with his neck close to the ground. Mao's arm passed above his eyes. Dodging the first strike, he drew his sword, and before Mao could react, threw it.
The sword cut through the air like a silver line and hit the opponent's bronze right leg hard. But it didn't do much. The flesh was too tough, strong enough to deflect the blade, which bounced back.
Before it hit the ground, Ling Wuxie caught it by the hilt. Young Mao was thrown backward—even though he had blocked it, the impact's force still made him take two steps back.
'The path of body refinement is interesting! Their defense is incredible, but still not invincible. It can be cut… It just needs a sharp enough strike!'
After that internal monologue, Ling Wuxie stopped playing around. Holding his sword, he activated his blood, which began to boil. Soon after, his muscles thundered like drums.
The sword in his hand, sensing the activation of his blood, changed form. At that moment, crimson red appeared on the silver blade, looking like living blood.
Young Mao, seeing that sword, felt the danger. He immediately pushed his Qi and Blood to the maximum state, making his skin even more resistant.
With both serious, the two charged—Mao with his fists, and Ling Wuxie with his sword. The moment they clashed, a collision occurred, forming gusts of wind.
And the sound of breaking steel echoed. The crimson blade pierced Mao's arm, gaining the upper hand and breaking the bones in his fingers. Pain shot through his hand, but he endured it and only clenched his teeth.
In the next instant, with his other hand, he clenched his fist and threw a punch at the little devil, aiming straight for his face.
Seeing the bronze fist coming like a ferocious beast, Ling Wuxie's eyes trembled, but he kept calm. In the next moment, he gathered all the blood and Qi in his body into his blade.
"Blood Slash!"
The sword shone in bright red, then turned into a small pulsing sea of blood, cutting toward Mao like a final judgment.
The moment young Mao took the blow, the redness tore through his arm and sent him flying like a kite. His other arm, stretched forward, flew off from the impact as well.
Boom!
His huge body crashed hard onto the platform, breaking it along with some of the bones in his back. The crowd was in shock.
"That kid won? And without any tricks this time?"
"Are you stupid? Look at that sword! It's not normal!"
"Even so, Ling Wuxie deserves credit. That attack was really strong!"
Hearing the praise, the battle's winner put his hand on his nose and, with a happy face, ran toward Mao, who lay on the ground like a dead dog.
'My sword is stronger than I thought.' Ling Wuxie felt bad. He squatted down and extended his hand to the young Mao, who didn't refuse the help and grabbed the palm with the hand that was still intact.
"You won." He accepted defeat. A martial artist knows when he's lost.
"You fought well... Your physical body is really strong." Ling Wuxie wasn't arrogant in victory. The young man before him had fought well. His defense was truly strong, having withstood the strike of a martial weapon. In the Qi and Blood Realm, few could manage such a feat.
"Thanks." Mao nodded, then left to heal his wounds. For a cultivator of the Qi and Blood Realm, repairing a broken arm wasn't too hard. With his essence, he could restore his bones.
Ling Wuxie, watching him leave, returned and picked up the spirit stones, placing them into his animal skin pouch. On one side he had the pouch, and on the other, his sheath—both fastened to his waist.
After collecting everything, he headed home.