In the crowd, several disciples whispered to each other.
"He is very good at refining weapons, but can his fist and kick skills be the same as refining weapons? Which disciple of the Wanjian Sect is not a good player?"
"You read that right! He has only built the sixth level of the foundation!"
"That's right, the Wanjian Sect's disciples There are still five people beside him! Even if he can defeat one, there are still four waiting for him, and the wheel battle can kill him!"
"He just consumed a lot of spiritual energy in refining the weapon? Isn't he going to deliver food now?"
Ye Feng walked slowly to the martial arts stage.
The pace is neither fast nor slow.
Every step is very steady.
He stood in the center of the martial arts stage.
On the edge of the martial arts stage, a figure is moving towards the center of the martial arts stage in an extremely slow, even crawling manner.
That is Wu Buxiu of Wanjian Sect.
His face was pale.
The fine beads of sweat on his forehead slid down his cheeks and dripped on his front, spreading into a small patch of dark color.
Every step seemed to exhaust all the strength of the whole body, and the legs seemed to be filled with lead water, soft and heavy.
The hard bluestone slab of the martial arts stage seemed to have turned into a hot iron plate under his feet at this moment, and every step he took was accompanied by a subtle tremor.
He bowed his waist slightly, his eyes evasive, not daring to look directly at the figure standing leisurely in front of him.
Wu Buxiu felt that his calves had turned into two overcooked dough balls, hanging limply on the bones, relying solely on his willpower to keep him from collapsing to the ground.
He can't forget it.
In the snow.
Ye Feng’s earth-shattering sword.
Also, the terrifying combat power displayed by Ye Feng is not at all what a Foundation Establishment monk should have.
The momentum and pressure were simply more terrifying than some of the Jindan elders in the sect.
He and that sword have carved a deep shadow in his heart.
Now.
He was looking at him with a smile.
Wu Buxiu's fear was like a flood that burst a dam, instantly drowning his reason.
Afraid.
It is the kind of fear that goes deep into the bones and even the soul is trembling.
Now he just wants to turn around and run as far as possible. It is best not to see Ye Feng's face again in this life.
Wu Buxiu tightly grasped the Lingxiao Sword in his hand.
This middle-grade magical weapon that he was so proud of was now as heavy as a stone.
His hands were shaking violently, and even the blade of the sword was making a slight buzzing sound, as if sensing the master's distress, he was sobbing softly.
Sweat had soaked the hilt of the sword, making it so slippery that he could hardly hold it.
The disciples in the audience also noticed something was wrong.
"Huh? What happened to Wu Buxiu? Wasn't he quite arrogant just now?"
"Look at his legs, they are shaking like chaff."
"Face The color is so white."
"Did Ye Feng refine his courage just now? The hand holding the sword is trembling, how can he still fight?"
On the martial arts viewing platform, Elder Sikong of Wanjian Sect frowned.
What’s going on with Wu Buxiu?
You were so high-spirited just now, why did you become such a coward as soon as you got on stage?
That timid look shows no trace of the character of a disciple of the Wanjian Sect.
Elder Sikong was filled with doubts.
Could it be that Ye Feng was scared out of his wits just now when he compared the trial weapon and made it into a divine weapon?
Refining weapons is weapon refining, and martial arts competitions are martial arts competitions.
Even if Ye Feng's talent in weapon refining is incredible, it does not mean that he will be invincible in a martial arts competition.
Wu Buxiu is still building a nine-level foundation, with a solid foundation, and he is quite proficient in the sword techniques of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, so he will not be so unbearable.
Wrong.
Elder Sikong glanced sharply at Ye Feng.
The boy didn't even draw his sword.
He just stood there casually, with his arms crossed and a smile on his lips.
Not even a hint of fighting spirit was revealed.
Just standing there made Wu Buxiu afraid of becoming like this?
At this moment.
Wu Buxiu finally moved to the martial arts stage, about a few feet away from Ye Feng.
This distance is already the limit of security.
He took a deep breath and trembled: "Ye...Ye Feng..."
Ye Feng raised his eyebrows and showed a bright smile.
"Wu Buxiu, are you ready to die? I am in a hurry to complete the task."
In a hurry?
Death?
Wu Buxiu’s cheek twitched and he forced out a smile that was uglier than crying.
"Brother Ye... show mercy... show mercy."
As soon as these words came out, the audience suddenly burst into laughter.
Even Elder Sikong’s face turned a bit darker.
Shame!
How embarrassing!
On the martial arts stage, the atmosphere was a bit...
Ye Feng's storage ring shimmered.
A long sword appeared out of thin air in his hand.
The blade of the sword is dull, iron-grey, and simple in style. At first glance, it looks like an ordinary item that is thrown in the corner of the weapons shop and no one cares about it.
Compared with Wu Buxiu’s brilliant, mid-grade magic weapon Lingxiao Sword, it was a world of difference.
Qu Buyuan, who was watching, saw the long sword in Ye Feng's hand, and his pupils suddenly narrowed.
This sword...how is it possible?
At this time.
Wu Buxiu’s heart was beating wildly, and an indescribable chill suddenly shot up along his spine.
He sensed that this was definitely not the pressure that an ordinary sword could bring!
When he saw Ye Feng raising the long sword slowly and even somewhat casually.
My inner defense finally collapsed.
His legs began to shake violently uncontrollably.
"Plop" sound.
Wu Buxiu’s knees softened and he collapsed to the ground.
All the disciples who were watching were stunned, and their jaws almost dropped to the ground.
The disciples of the Weapon Refining Sect are also discussing:
"Am I right? The disciples of the Wanjian Sect...are so paralyzed?"
"What the hell? What the hell! We haven’t even started fighting yet! When did the disciples of Wanjian Sect become so cowardly?”
“There’s something wrong with that sword? It doesn’t look like it, it’s just an ordinary long sword.”
"Shame! He has completely disgraced Wanjian Sect! How will he explain it when he goes back?" Elder Ziyang sent a message to Elder Sikong through the air.
"Fellow Daoist Sikong, is this the disciple carefully trained by your Wanjian Sect?"
"When someone raised an ordinary long sword, he scared the noble sect's disciple into looking like this."
"It's... eye-opening!"
The veins in Elder Sikong's forehead twitched slightly, "Ziyang! Mind your weapon refining sect's affairs!"
Elder Ziyang sighed and stopped talking.
Ling Xuzi murmured to himself after a while: "Ye Feng... what kind of medicine is sold in the gourd?"
Ye Feng pointed the tip of his sword at the limp Wu Buxiu.
"Hey, are you... planning to lie on the ground and touch porcelain?"
"My sword hasn't touched you yet."
Wu Buxiu trembled all over, like a frightened rabbit, moving backwards on his hands and feet.
"Trash!" Elder Sikong shouted angrily.
"Come back! The Wanjian Sect has been completely disgraced by you!"
Wu Buxiu fled down the martial arts stage by rolling and crawling.
Elder Sikong took a breath silently, feeling unspeakable depression in his chest.
That’s all.
This loser was frightened to death by the aftermath of Ye Feng's weapon refining.
In this round, Wan Jian Zong admitted defeat.
Elder He, who was in charge of presiding over the competition, coughed lightly and suppressed the noise in the venue.
"Because Wu Buxiu, a disciple of Wanjian Sect, gave up the competition."
"Therefore, the winner of this game——"
"Tianji Sect, Ye Feng!"
The voice of announcing the result fell, and the disciples of Tianji Sect rejoiced.
Elder He’s voice sounded again, with a hint of solemnity.
"Next, let's proceed to the next competition."
"From Tianji Sect Ye Feng."
"Battle——"
"Wanjian Sect, Hao Yijian!"