Chapter 132: Bi Bo Dao

From the start of the battle to Qing Ge Shiren's defeat, hardly any time had passed.

This famed cultivator, hailed as the top free cultivator of Guangyuan Marketplace, was knocked unconscious like a beaten dog.

Bi Jiazhu's face was blank, as if he still could not believe that the renowned Qing Ge Shiren had been defeated by a mere mid-Stage Qi Refinement cultivator.

The drunken man standing nearby also seemed much more alert, gazing at Wang Yu on the training ground with a thoughtful expression.

Moments later, after the Confucian scholar declared Wang Yu the winner, the cultivators from other families on the stone platforms finally began whispering among themselves.

Fang Jiazhu's expression was tense; he occasionally whispered to the man beside him, and fragments like "strongman" and "ancient Qi Refinement master" could be heard, while Shi Jian remained utterly unconcerned.

The old man who had won the first match remained silent, but his gaze toward Wang Yu's back was grave.

The man wielding the Golden Light-stage artifact was also speaking with his clan members, his expression equally solemn.

Yin Linglong and the other two Yin clan elders were overjoyed; as soon as Wang Yu flew back, the three rushed forward to meet him.

"Husband, you've defeated Qing Ge Shiren? Then you've at least a fifty percent chance of securing a spirit vein slot." Yin Linglong said, beaming.

"More than that, Jiazhu. With your son-in-law's abilities, I'd say the Yin clan securing one slot is practically guaranteed." One Yin elder exclaimed excitedly; the other nodded vigorously.

"That's hard to say—securing a slot still depends on who your later opponents are." Wang Yu said calmly, then couldn't help glancing toward Gu Lian's side.

He happened to meet Gu Lian's gaze; Gu Lian smiled slightly, then walked over with Yu Jiazhu and Yu Xiaoming.

"Congratulations, Brother Wang. Qing Ge Shiren may seem powerful—his artifact and secret techniques are well-coordinated, and his battle experience is sharp—but in truth, his potential is exhausted."

"His cultivation talent was never remarkable to begin with, and now he's devoted most of his energy to combat techniques. He'll likely never rise beyond late-stage Qi Refinement—he has no hope of Foundation Establishment." Gu Lian bowed first, offering his congratulations.

"Oh? So Brother Gu doesn't hold much faith in Qing Ge Shiren's future path. But what of me, in your eyes?" Wang Yu raised an eyebrow and asked slowly, his gaze sweeping over the Yu father and son.

In just a short while, the three now clearly deferred to Gu Lian.

Yu Jiazhu, having witnessed Wang Yu's strength, smiled on his face but looked distinctly strained.

Beside him, Yu Xiaoming wore a dazed expression, as if struck by an even greater blow.

"How can Qing Ge Shiren compare to Brother Wang? Even if your cultivation talent is ordinary, once you become a formal Artificer, you won't lack resources—even for Qi Refinement Twelve's Great Perfection."

"Though Qi Refinement Ten's Perfection is enough to attempt Foundation Establishment, for prodigies, aiming for Qi Refinement Twelve's Great Perfection is the optimal choice. After all, Great Perfection means purer spiritual energy, deeper cultivation, higher success rates for Foundation Establishment, and a more stable, potent foundation afterward."

"Moreover, your recent battle clearly showed you were holding back—you've surely yet to reveal many of your abilities." Gu Lian spoke with deep implication.

What? Had Wang Yu not even shown his full strength?

The Yu father and son were startled by Gu Lian's words.

Yin Linglong, upon hearing this, was both surprised and delighted, her eyes turning instinctively to Wang Yu.

"Brother Gu, you flatter me too much. Qi Refinement Great Perfection? Even within the Four Symbols Sect, few have reached that level—how could I, a mere mid-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, dare to dream of it?" Wang Yu's expression remained calm, but he shook his head repeatedly.

"Heh, I can't speak for others, but I feel Brother Wang has a very good chance of achieving it." Gu Lian replied with a light laugh.

Wang Yu heard this and felt a flicker of surprise.

This disciple of the Sunset Sect seemed to hold him in unusually high regard for some reason—and it left him with a faint sense of unease.

At that moment, the Confucian scholar announced the start of the next match.

The winner of this round would become Wang Yu's opponent; he immediately fixed his gaze upon the stage.

Out flew a gray-robed man of average features, around thirty years old, holding a plain, black iron blade.

Simultaneously, three figures flew onto the training ground.

The front figure was an old man with a long face, dressed in a golden robe; the two behind were completely shrouded from head to toe in black robes, revealing not a single inch of skin.

"Senior Liu, this is…"

The gray-robed man, seeing his three opponents, froze in surprise and asked uncertainly toward Liu Ming above.

"The opponents haven't broken any rules. The match has begun." The Confucian scholar glanced once at the long-faced elder and spoke coolly.

The long-faced elder chuckled softly, flicked his fingers, and the two black-robed figures instantly leapt into the air, hurtling toward the opponent.

The gray-robed man frowned, raised his iron blade before him; its surface emitted a faint green glow, and he moved his arm.

"Swoosh." "Swoosh."

Two crescent-shaped green blade shadows shot directly from the iron blade, vanished in an instant, and struck the two black-robed figures solidly.

"Boom." "Boom."

The green blade shadows exploded, sending the two black-robed figures crashing from the air; their robes tore apart, revealing their true forms.

They were clad in thick silver armor, their noses and mouths painted on, their eyes made of emerald crystals. One carried a long sword and a small shield; the other bore a massive iron crossbow and a full quiver of bolts.

"Tiangong Sect's puppet soldiers!" The gray-robed man recognized them at once, showing no surprise.

At that moment, the long-faced elder flicked his fingers again; the two puppet soldiers rose instantly, one grabbing its shield and drawing its long sword as it charged forward, the other unshouldering its massive crossbow and aiming it at the gray-robed man.

"How foolish. Do you know why Qi Refinement cultivators rarely control artifacts at long range, or directly deploy puppets or spirit beasts in battle?"

"Because Qi Refinement cultivators cannot split their spiritual sense, nor can they condense true spiritual intent."

"What's called 'artifact control' in late-stage Qi Refinement is merely what you do—stretching your spiritual sense into threads to pull artifacts from afar." The gray-robed man sneered, then raised his iron blade high, pouring his spiritual energy into it furiously.

The blade blazed with green light; eleven pale-blue spiritual runes appeared on its surface. A giant blade shadow, ten times the size of the blade itself, coalesced above it, shimmering with green radiance, faintly echoing the sound of waves crashing.

"Bi Bo Dao."

Only now did the long-faced elder recognize the blade's origin—he cried out in shock and tried to recall his puppets, but it was already too late.