Tong Zhihua spat out a mouthful of bloody spit, and the hand holding the sword was shaking.
It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I'm tired. After three hours of continuous fighting, the spiritual power of the seventh level of Qi Refining had already bottomed out, and the wound on his right rib that was torn open by the Yin Wind Claw was still bleeding.
"Outer disciple Tong Zhihua has won nine games in a row!" The elder deacon said with no emotion in his voice, "The last game is against Wang Yue."
The audience was in an uproar.
Wang Yue, at the ninth level of Qi Refining, was personally prepared by Elder Zhang of the inner sect, and was good at wielding an iron-cutting sword. The last outer disciple who fought with him had to lie down for half a year before he could get out of bed.
Tong Zhihua licked his chapped lips and looked at the high platform. There sat seven elders of the Qingyun Sect, including Elder Liu who was in charge of the execution hall. Three months ago, it was this Elder Liu who personally threw a copy of "Basic Qi Refining Technique" in his face and said, "Individual spiritual roots are also worthy of cultivating immortals."
He wants to win. Must win. Only by entering the inner door can one be qualified to consult the classics on the second floor of the Sutra Pavilion, and then it is possible to find a way to control the things in the body.
"Start!"
