Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

"The format is a survival match. Each side will send out one person at a time. The winner stays on the stage, the loser is eliminated. This continues until all five members of one side have been defeated!"

As the announcement ended, the atmosphere instantly tensed.

The very first match was a duel between two sects with a deep-seated grudge, which undoubtedly ignited everyone’s passion.

On the Qingxuan Sect’s side, Elder Chen Xuan’s gaze swept over the five disciples, including Fang Han. After a moment of thought, he spoke.

"Shi Meng, you’ll be the vanguard."

"Yes, Elder!"

Shi Meng let out a low roar. Far from being afraid, he was eager for a fight.

He stomped his foot hard, and his burly body shot up from the ground like a cannonball, landing heavily on the arena stage with a dull THUD, showcasing his immense strength.

From the Netherworld Pavilion’s side, a disciple with a cold expression leaped onto the stage. This man was tall and thin, his gaze locked onto Shi Meng like a venomous snake. In his hands, he held a pair of Short Spikes that glinted with a cold, dark light.

This was Yin Bin, ranked fifth among the new disciples of the Netherworld Pavilion.

Seeing this, the referee said no more and waved his arm.

"The match begins!"

"BOOM—!"

Shi Meng took a deep breath, his muscles bulging. With a low shout, he charged toward his opponent like a raging bull.

His Fist Technique was fierce and unrivaled. As his fists swung, they kicked up vicious gusts of wind, his moves wide and sweeping, direct and straightforward.

He threw a punch straight at Yin Bin.

"SWOOSH!"

Yin Bin, knowing Shi Meng’s strength, didn’t try to block it head-on. His body flickered like a phantom, nimbly dodging Shi Meng’s fist.

His pair of Short Spikes struck out from the side like a viper’s fangs.

The tips of the spikes tore through the air with a HISS HISS, carrying a sinister and vicious intent.

"CLANG—"

The hairs on Shi Meng’s body stood on end. He spun around in a hurry, using his fist to block the incoming Short Spikes.

"SWOOSH!"

Having failed to score a hit, Yin Bin did not press the attack and retreated in a flash.

On the stage, Shi Meng’s assault was like a raging tide, his momentum overwhelming.

Yin Bin, however, relied on his nimble Body Technique to move around, continuously evading Shi Meng’s attacks while trying to find an opportunity to win.

However, Yin Bin had clearly overestimated his own Body Technique and underestimated Shi Meng’s mastery of his Fist Technique.

After dozens of exchanges, Shi Meng seized a momentary pause in Yin Bin’s breathing, knocking away his Short Spikes with one punch.

His other fist shot forward, hurtling toward Yin Bin’s chest like a heavy cannonball.

This punch contained the powerful Inner Qi of his Late Stage of Eighth Grade cultivation, which was extremely close to the Ninth Grade. The force of the blow stirred the air. If it landed, bones would surely break, and severe injury would be unavoidable.

Yin Bin’s face changed dramatically; he was already too late to dodge.

At that critical moment, a figure swept between the two like a wisp of smoke.

It was the referee, Xuanyuan Jing!

With a gentle flick of his sleeve, he released a soft yet irresistible force that precisely wrapped around Shi Meng’s wrist, redirecting the violent punch to the side.

At the same time, he made a gentle pressing motion with his other hand, sending Yin Bin several steps back and neutralizing the fatal blow.

"Shi Meng of the Qingxuan Sect wins."

Xuanyuan Jing announced the result.

Shi Meng stood with his fists lowered, cupping them in a salute to the referee before turning his burning gaze toward the Netherworld Pavilion’s camp.

Yin Bin, his face a mask of displeasure, retreated sullenly.

"Useless trash."

From the Netherworld Pavilion’s side, a figure walked out and ascended the stage.

The moment he passed Yin Bin, he uttered the blunt rebuke, causing the latter’s expression to shift uncertainly, though he didn’t dare to retort.

This figure was none other than Mo Yuan!

"The match begins."

Seeing Mo Yuan take the stage, Xuanyuan Jing announced.

"Make your move. If you don’t, you won’t even get the chance!"

Mo Yuan’s eyes were full of contempt, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smirk.

"Arrogant!"

Shi Meng was furious upon hearing this. He was, after all, the fifth-ranked disciple among the new recruits of the Qingxuan Sect, yet he was being looked down upon like this.

He let out an explosive shout and lunged forward, fists flying.

However, Mo Yuan didn’t even try to dodge. With a low shout, the aura around him erupted, revealing that he had reached the Early Stage of Eighth Grade!

He had actually turned his shame from the defeat by Fang Han into courage, breaking through his bottleneck from the Late Stage of Ninth Grade to the Early Stage of Eighth Grade.

A dark glow flowed over his fists as he brazenly met Shi Meng’s iron punches.

"BANG, BANG, BANG!"

Fists collided, sending Powerful Qi rippling outwards.

After several consecutive clashes, the Inner Qi coiling around Shi Meng’s fists was shattered. A chilly and vicious stream of Inner Qi invaded him, spreading up his arm.

Everywhere it passed, his arm felt as if it were frozen solid, completely losing all sensation.

’This is bad!’

Seeing that this chilly and vicious Inner Qi was about to invade his body through his arm, Shi Meng’s face paled. If that Inner Qi entered his system, he would undoubtedly be severely injured.

Just then, a hand rested on Shi Meng’s arm. The chilly and vicious Inner Qi that had invaded his limb instantly dissipated, like ice meeting the sun.

It was Xuanyuan Jing who had intervened to save Shi Meng, and his action also signaled the end of the match.

"Mo Yuan of the Netherworld Pavilion wins."

Xuanyuan Jing announced.

Mo Yuan withdrew his gaze from Shi Meng and cast it toward Fang Han in the Qingxuan Sect’s camp, his fighting spirit blazing.

"Fang Han, get up here and fight!"

Elder Chen Xuan had been about to send Huang Ling’er up. Hearing Mo Yuan’s shout, he looked slightly surprised and turned to Fang Han beside him to ask.

"Fang Han, you know this Mo Yuan?"

"Elder, I fought Mo Yuan once during a mission a month ago."

Fang Han met Elder Chen Xuan’s gaze and nodded.

"In that case, you’re up for this match. Be careful."

A look of understanding flashed in Elder Chen Xuan’s eyes. After a moment’s thought, he changed his mind and said to Fang Han.

"Yes."

Fang Han replied, then walked onto the stage with steady steps.

"Fang Han! I lost to you last time, but today, I will wash away that shame!"

Seeing Fang Han take the stage, Mo Yuan’s eyes erupted with a daunting light, filled with both a craving for vengeance and an indescribable gravity.

"That depends on how much you’ve improved!"

Fang Han looked at the battle-hungry Mo Yuan, his own eyes showing no ripple of emotion. He simply drew the Cyan Blade Sword from his waist, its tip pointing diagonally at the ground, and spoke lightly.

With no more pleasantries, the match began in an instant!

"BOOM—!"

Mo Yuan, knowing full well the strangeness of Fang Han’s Body Technique, attacked with all his might from the very beginning.

Fueled by his Early-Stage Eighth Grade Cultivation, his fists descended upon Fang Han like a torrential storm.

The force of his punches was scorching and sinister, their momentum astonishing as they covered a large area.

His intention was to suppress Fang Han with a powerful offensive, leaving him no opportunity to use his Body Technique.

"SWISH—!"

However, facing Mo Yuan’s far fiercer assault, Fang Han did not, as Mo Yuan expected, use his Body Technique to maneuver.

He merely shifted his feet slightly, his Step Technique simple and efficient. The Cyan Blade Sword in his hand transformed into a streak of cyan lightning as he unleashed his Mastery Level Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship.

"SLASH!"

The blade sliced through the air, carrying an unstoppable Wind Momentum as it cut brazenly into the path of Mo Yuan’s fists.

Mo Yuan’s ferocious barrage of punches was shattered, and his body was forced back several steps involuntarily.

’How is this possible?!’

Mo Yuan retreated a few steps before steadying himself, his face a mask of incredulous shock.

He stared intently at the Cyan Blade Sword in Fang Han’s hand, which was pulsing with a faint, cold cyan light, his chest heaving violently.

That single sword strike had not only easily broken through the full force of his punches.

An extremely condensed, tearing force had also penetrated his body, sending his blood and qi into turmoil. His arm was still faintly numb even now.

"You... you’re at the Early Stage of Eighth Grade too?!"

Mo Yuan’s voice carried a tremor he himself didn’t notice.

He had thought that by breaking through to the Early Stage of Eighth Grade and greatly increasing his strength, he would surely be able to avenge his previous shame.

He never imagined that his opponent, whose cultivation had only just reached the Late Stage of Ninth Grade back then, would also have reached the Early Stage of Eighth Grade.

Without even using his Body Technique, relying solely on his Swordsmanship, Fang Han had effortlessly neutralized his fierce attack and even forced him back.

This was completely different from what he had imagined. The gap between them had not shrunk; instead, it had widened to a startling degree.

Fang Han’s expression was calm, his eyes as tranquil as an ancient well. He wasn’t surprised by this outcome.

With a sixteen-fold Root Bone Talent and Swordsmanship Talent Amplification, the speed of his improvement in cultivation and Martial Techniques was not something Mo Yuan could compare to.

"You’ve made good progress, but unfortunately, it’s not enough."

Fang Han said faintly. Before his words had even faded, his body was already in motion.

He didn’t use Wind Shadow Step, just an ordinary step forward, but his speed was astonishingly fast. The Cyan Blade Sword became a streak of cyan lightning, stabbing straight for Mo Yuan’s throat.

The Wind Momentum was highly concentrated at the tip of the sword, letting out a piercing scream.

Mo Yuan’s pupils contracted. An intense sense of crisis made the hairs on his body stand on end.

He let out a furious roar, the dark Inner Qi on his fists surging wildly as he crossed his arms in front of him, attempting to block the strike head-on.

"CLANG!"

Fists and sword met again, erupting in a deafening crash.

Mo Yuan felt an irresistible force crash into him, and the arms he used to block felt as if they were about to break from the intense pain.

His body slid backward uncontrollably, leaving two clear tracks on the ground.

Before he could fully dissipate the force, Fang Han’s second strike had already arrived.

The sword light traced a bizarre arc, like a willow catkin in the wind, unpredictable as it sliced toward his ribs.

He barely managed to twist his body, his right fist hastily smashing against the flat of the blade.

"SHHNK!"

The sword’s edge swept past. Though knocked off course by the force of the punch, it still tore a gash in the robe over his ribs. The chilling Sword Qi almost pierced through, making him shudder violently.

The third strike, the fourth strike...

Fang Han’s Sword Techniques were not complex, but they were swift, precise, and ruthless to the extreme.

Every single strike was aimed at the openings and vital points in Mo Yuan’s stances, perfectly embodying the essence of the name "Split Wind."

The whistling of the sword wind stirred up currents of air, completely enveloping Mo Yuan.

Mo Yuan was struggling to defend himself, looking utterly wretched.

His cultivation was on par with Fang Han’s, but his Martial Technique was far inferior.

’Damn it! How can this be?!’

Mo Yuan roared in his heart, filled with humiliation and unwillingness.

He had trained desperately during this time and broken through to the Eighth Grade, thinking he could finally avenge his shame. He never expected this!

In the instant that Mo Yuan’s mind was in turmoil—

A glint flashed in Fang Han’s eyes. The Cyan Blade Sword shot out like a viper striking from its den, evading Mo Yuan’s defensive fists and stabbing in from an impossible angle.

The cold edge of the blade came to rest against Mo Yuan’s neck.

The bone-chilling cold from the blade instantly froze all of Mo Yuan’s movements.

He could clearly feel the icy touch of the blade against his skin, and the sharp Sword Qi contained within it, ready to erupt at any moment.

With just a slight flick of Fang Han’s wrist, he would be beheaded.