Chapter 171

Standing on a void, Fang Can sat cross-legged, holding the Xuan Hong Spear, ready to enter the competition at any moment.

In Jingcheng, cheers had already erupted everywhere.

Before today, these commoners only knew Fang Can was strong, but had no idea just how strong.

But now, with numerical quantification, they directly felt the terrifying gap between Fang Can and his peers.

"Over ten thousand strength—far surpassing the other Dragon Pool contenders at three or four thousand."

"No wonder he's my god—he should be this strong!"

"I've hated Xiang Longtao for ages—Fang Can, go knock that guy to his knees!"

……

Besides Da Yan's citizens, all the martial artists watching Fang Can's number above his head were calculating their own values at the Tuifan Body stage.

"Without using my secret technique, I'd have been around eight thousand two back then; if I pushed to the limit, maybe twenty-four thousand," Liu Qingmeng estimated roughly.

Jiang Ningan beside him sighed inwardly: "Back then, I broke through too fast—at the Ninth Level of Xuanguan, I barely reached eight hundred…"

"At the Ninth Level of Xuanguan, my peak value should have been around eight thousand five," the Tianshahun Sect Master calculated.

These martial artists who had reached the Fourth Transformation were all extraordinary talents who once stirred up storms in the martial world during their youth.

But no matter how they calculated, none could reach Fang Can's ten-thousand-plus value.

Fang Can knew nothing of the crowd's thoughts—he merely closed his eyes, resting and waiting for time to pass.

In his ears, Luo Yanmo's voice rang out: "All competitors, prepare yourselves. The monk shall now transport your bodies into Fangcun Mountain."

As he spoke, Luo Yanmo flicked his fingertip, and several specks of mud flew out, striking Fang Can's soles.

Instantly, Fang Can felt his whole body torn apart, a terrifying suction pulling him—when he regained awareness, he had vanished from his original spot.

Along with him, all the competing Dragon Pool martial artists vanished.

The battlefield of the Nations' Competition lay within a void, constructed from a spark of spiritual light drawn from the hearts of the capital's citizens of each nation.

Precisely because of this, everyone could enter and observe.

It was a pure, information-less blackness, where countless martial artists were ripped from the void and plummeted downward.

As they fell, Fang Can's senses gradually returned, the environment shifting from void to tangible reality.

Air, sunlight, dew, grass…

These abstract concepts solidified into real, tangible forms—by the time Fang Can realized it, he stood upon an unfamiliar land.

"Is this the Nations' Competition arena?"

Fang Can felt the solid earth beneath his feet, sunlight nourishing his cells, a breeze stirring his robes—everything felt like a real, unvarnished world.

Yes, in Fang Can's perception, all of it existed in real time.

But when he shifted his gaze away, the scene he had just perceived shattered instantly, reverting to void.

And where the void had been, new forms began materializing under Fang Can's observation.

As a world forged from human minds, Fangcun Mountain was an absolute idealist existence.

Only places observed could exist; close your eyes, and the entire world dissolved into void.

Like real-time rendering in a game—building a full real world consumed too much processing power, so it simply rendered what was on-screen, just enough to pass.

Thus, in this world, the only true things were the martial artists themselves—everything else was illusion.

"Feels more and more like the internet world… and Fangcun Mountain would make a great substitute for an internet platform," Fang Can thought unconsciously.

Since entry positions were randomly scrambled, no one could predict where they'd land.

Seeing himself in a dark alley, Fang Can gave no further thought—he pushed off lightly with his legs and leapt high into the air.

At this point, he could treat air as a stepping surface.

His legs tapped the air repeatedly, and with a thunderous sonic boom, he soared a thousand meters upward.

His raised right arm brushed against a phantom ripple of water—clearly, he had reached the world's height limit.

Looking down, he saw neatly arranged ancient buildings with upturned eaves, carved beams and painted rafters; the only strange thing was the complete absence of people—it was an empty city.

By comparing the city's skyline with known landmarks, Fang Can quickly deduced he was in Shē City, the capital of Da Zhou.

"Next step: head to the tallest structure in the battlefield and formally challenge the Imperial Prince of Chu."

Fang Can pondered, his pupils contracting like an eagle's gaze fixed on the distance.

Of all the capitals' tallest buildings, none surpassed the Twin Imperial Towers at the heart of Chu's Ducheng.

The towers stood 817 meters tall—anyone with sharp vision could spot their position across the entire Chu capital.

"Then I'll go there," Fang Can decided, when he spotted several figures sprinting toward him from afar.

His sudden leap into the sky had clearly drawn attention from other competitors.

On the city walls, three martial artists ran wildly, their eyes locked on the slow-falling figure above.

"What a fool—he dares leap into the sky from the start? Utterly suicidal."

The martial artists who had intended to sneer inwardly now saw clearly the figure suspended mid-air.

A white combat suit inlaid with gold thread, hair flowing like silk in the wind, and eyes as crimson as the finest rubies—staring straight at them.

The moment they recognized him, their legs nearly gave out.

They had seen this figure before—it was none other than the No. 1 Dragon Pool contender who had challenged Xiang Longtao on Fangcun Mountain!

Especially the number above his head: 10205!!!

"It's Fang Can—run!"

Instantly, the three martial artists scraped their feet violently against the ground, desperate to brake and turn and flee.

Internally, they cursed their own stupidity—why did they ever stick their necks out?

In an instant, before they could react, a black-gold spear, two and a half meters long, pierced the air and stabbed toward one of them.

The hardened spearhead screamed through the air, piercing a martial artist's chest and pinning him rigidly in place.

The instant he hurled the long spear from his hand, Fang Can twisted his body in midair, then kicked off the air behind him with a mighty thrust, launching himself toward the other martial artist's body.

In the span of mere breaths, Fang Can became a blur, crossing hundreds of meters to press his body right beside that martial artist.

Seeing the opponent's terrified posture with arms crossed, Fang Can said calmly, "Can you block it?"

The next moment, as his right fist, seeming to contain the power of an ancient giant dragon, struck out, the Heart-Image martial artist's arms were instantly shattered by a single punch.

With a loud explosion, the opponent's flying body vanished into the building in an instant.

(End of this chapter)