18: Chapter 18 Sect Competition: We'll Use You as Sacrificial Offerings for the Sword

The clamor in the martial arts arena was like a pot of boiling porridge, even drowning out the faint scent of rust in the wind.

Ye Feng had just stepped onto the stone stairs at the edge of the arena and had not even steadied his footing.

"Die!"

There was no bowing in greeting, no command from the referee.

A foul wind, carrying a nauseating stench of sweat, rushed toward him.

Wang Meng, who had been waiting on the stage for a long time, was now like an out-of-control black bear. The veins on his two thick arms bulged, and he swung the millstone-sized Heaven-Shaking Hammers, smashing them fiercely toward the crown of Ye Feng's head.

If this hammer strike landed solidly, let alone a person, even an Armored Rhinoceros would be turned into pulp.

A burst of exclamation erupted from the viewing stands—it was a scream of excitement.

This was the inner Sect tournament; this was the so-called sparring of the Righteous Path.

If one wanted to kill, one still had to use the excuse of an accident.

Ye Feng did not even lift an eyelid.

If it were three days ago, he would indeed have had to dodge this hammer, but in these three days, he had been soaking in the Marrow Cleansing Pool, swallowing a Heavy Black Gold Lock, and the crevices of his bones had long been filled with metal essence harder than steel.

Now, it seemed, this hundred-jin Heaven-Shaking Hammer was as light as cotton.

He couldn't even be bothered to draw his sword.

He retreated half a step with his right foot, anchoring it into the ground, and pointed his right index finger forward, seemingly casually.

Ding—!

An extremely piercing, sharp sound instantly shattered all the clamor.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

The giant hammer, carrying the force of a thousand jun, hung suspended three inches in front of Ye Feng's forehead. No matter how Wang Meng flushed red with effort, he could not advance even a fraction of an inch.

And at the point of impact of the giant hammer, it was merely pressed against a fair finger.

The fingertip did not touch the surface of the hammer; between them was a layer of invisible Sword Qi, thin as a cicada's wing yet incomparably sharp.

That was Sword Qi.

It was also the absolute defense after achieving sainthood in the Physical Body.

"This... how is this possible?"

Wang Meng's eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets; he felt that what he had struck was not a finger, but a towering Primordial divine mountain.

"Is this the so-called Hercules of the inner Sect?"

A trace of contempt curled the corners of Ye Feng's mouth. "Soft as a woman's fist."

Before the words had faded, his fingertip trembled violently.

Crack!

Countless spiderweb-like cracks instantly crawled across the massive hammer head from the point of impact.

The next second, the Heaven-Shaking Hammer, forged from refined iron, exploded with a roar, turning into a rain of iron across the sky.

Wang Meng was shaken by this rebound force, the webbing between his thumb and index finger splitting open, and he fell backward, dripping with blood.

Ye Feng did not pursue; instead, he reached casually into the rain of flying fragments, his two fingers precisely pinching a large piece of the refined iron remnant.

The edge of the remnant was sharp and still carried unspent force.

But he didn't even look at it, throwing it directly into his mouth.

Crunch, crunch.

The teeth-aching sound of chewing was clearly transmitted to every corner through the Formation amplifying the sound in the martial arts arena.

The whole audience was deathly silent.

Everyone looked at the youth on the stage who was chewing raw steel like he was a monster.

That was a Magical Artifact mixed with Black Iron!

A scorching flow of air rolled down his throat into his abdomen. The Chaos Devouring Sword Body operated instantly, the meager metal Impurities were expelled from his body, and the pure Spiritual Qi of Metal instantly filled the last gap in his Dantian.

Ye Feng's robes fluttered without wind, and a crisp explosion sounded from within his body.

Body Refining Stage 9, Peak.

With just a mouthful of scrap iron, he had broken through the Bottleneck.

"Tastes average."

Ye Feng licked the iron filings on his lips, still unsatisfied, and his gaze crossed over Wang Meng, who was paralyzed on the ground and had already been scared out of his wits, stabbing straight toward the high platform.

There, Mo Yuanshan was gripping the armrest tightly, his old eyes filled with unbelievable terror.

"Get lost."

Ye Feng couldn't even be bothered to look at Wang Meng at his feet, kicking him out like kicking trash.

The burly man, weighing over two hundred jin, screamed as he traced a parabola, crashing heavily outside the arena, his life or death unknown.

"Elder Mo, is this greeting gift loud enough?"

Ye Feng stood in the center of the arena, facing Mo Yuanshan's cannibalistic gaze, and slowly gripped the Void Realm to his side with his right hand.

"Sword, come."

Hum—!

At the entrance of the martial arts arena, a gray stream of light arrived, piercing through the air.

That was the broken blade remnant he had found at the bottom of the Marrow Cleansing Pool.

Upon entering his hand, although it had no hilt, it immediately resonated with his flesh and blood, as if this rusted piece of iron was originally a part of his body.

Primordial Sword Intent surged, and a heart-stopping cold light suddenly lit up on the surface of the originally rust-covered broken blade.

On the high platform, Mo Yuanshan stood up abruptly.

That is...

As a Sword Cultivator, he knew too well what that aura meant.

That was not ordinary iron; that was a supreme treasure of the Dao of the Sword, containing supreme Dao rhymes!

This brat not only didn't die at the bottom of the Marrow Cleansing Pool but instead obtained a heaven-defying fortune!

Greed grew wildly in Mo Yuanshan's heart like weeds, instantly swallowing his reason.

This child cannot be left alive, but this sword embryo must be mine!

"Evil spawn! You dare to consume a Demonic Artifact during a sparring match and commit violence in public!"

With a violent shout, Mo Yuanshan's figure, like a great roc spreading its wings, leaped directly from the hundred-zhang high platform.

Rules?

In the face of absolute temptation, rules are just a fart.

Even Sect Master on the side just narrowed his eyes and did not stop him.

The pressure of the half-step Divine Sea Realm was released without reservation. While Mo Yuanshan was still in mid-air, his right hand had already transformed into a giant palm of Spiritual Qi capable of covering the sky, sealing off all of Ye Feng's escape routes, front, back, left, and right.

This palm strike was not to subdue, but to kill.

The fierce wind pressed Ye Feng's hair into disarray, his clothes clinging to his body and snapping loudly.

The surrounding air seemed to solidify, heavy enough to be suffocating.

Ye Feng looked at the palm growing larger above his head, the knuckles holding the broken blade turning slightly white.

Old dog, have you finally been unable to resist doing it yourself?

He did not retreat a single step; instead, facing that overwhelming pressure, he slammed his left foot forward.

There are only Sword Cultivators who die in battle, no cowards who die of fright.

Since you've brought your face forward, I won't be polite.