On the arena stage, two outer court disciples, both at the late-stage of Qi Condensation and wearing formal cyan robes, were already engaged in combat.
Mo Fan leaned against a stone pillar below the stage. Originally, he held the mentality of facing formidable foes and hoping to steal some martial arts techniques, observing with keen interest.
But gradually, after watching a dozen or so matches, the anticipation in his eyes turned into a poorly concealed weirdness and speechlessness.
The combat patterns of these outer court disciples on the Group C stages were surprisingly uniform. One could even call them... rigid.
"Is this the so-called spell fighting of the Mystic Realm?"
Mo Fan silently deconstructed the combat flow on the stage in his mind:
First, after both sides took the stage, they invariably pulled a distance of over a dozen meters.
Then, they closed their eyes, muttered incantations, and spent two or three seconds forming extremely complex hand seals to prop up the Azure Cloud Sect's most basic [ Water Ripple Shield ] over their bodies.
Next came the turn-based game of exchanging blows.
There were no legendary rivers of sword Qi capable of destroying heaven and earth, nor were there divine abilities to move mountains and fill seas. Most people used the most basic [ Fireball ], [ Water Arrow ], or [ Wind Blade ].
Not only did these spells have a cast animation (wind-up) so obvious it looked like they were doing morning calisthenics, but their flight trajectories were also extremely linear. Unless one was blind, it was easy to dodge just by anticipating half a second in advance.
After both sides threw a fireball here and returned a wind blade there, bombarding each other for a while until their shields shattered and the spiritual Qi in their bodies was mostly depleted...
The most comical scene would unfold.
These two "great Qi Condensation experts," originally looking like immortal beings, would be panting heavily due to Mana exhaustion.
Finally forced to draw the mortal iron weapons at their waists, they would tangle together haphazardly like street thugs. At the very end, the competition was purely about who had better stamina and who could tank more hits.
"Long cast times, singular methods, severe lack of adaptability..."
Mo Fan shook his head, giving an extremely harsh evaluation in his mind. "Aren't these just a bunch of low-tier squishy mages who only know how to stand still and DPS, with incredibly slow cast bars?"
Sure enough, this was only the outer court; it was the low Elo bracket of the cultivation world.
His mind flashed back to the apocalyptic scene over Qingmu Town that day—Elder Liu Yun severing the void with a single sword and washing the earth with ten thousand bolts of lightning, and Luo Yu's ruthless screen-clearing wave.
Those were true cultivators.
The people before him were, at best, a bunch of mortals who had just learned a few magic tricks.
At least in his immediate area, he had swept with [ Death Vision ] several times and hadn't seen a single decent body cultivator with vigorous Qi and blood. They were all spellcasters who would shatter at a touch.
"Arena C-73. Servant district Lu Xiaoqi versus outer court disciple Li Rui!"
Just as Mo Fan was bored out of his mind, the managing deacon beside the arena suddenly dragged out his voice and announced the numbers loudly.
"My turn."
Mo Fan stood up straight, reached back to tighten the coarse cloth wrapping his [ Pale Bone Scepter ], parted the crowd, and strode onto the stage.
With his entrance, the crowd below—originally drowsy from watching noobs peck at each other—instantly perked up. Only, this energy wasn't out of anticipation, but a desire to watch a joke.
Instantly, a wave of undisguised boos and whispers exploded around the arena like a tide.
"Holy shit, look! Is that the servant who entered through the backdoor?"
"Exactly! Dressed like a beggar. What the hell is that on his back? A fire poker?"
"Does he really think that just because he has a high-grade Spirit Root brother taken as a personal disciple by the Sect Master, a wild pheasant like him can bask in the glory and turn into a phoenix? This is the Outer Court Grand Tournament; swords have no eyes. He won't even know how he died on the stage later."
Facing this overwhelming mockery, Mo Fan remained expressionless. He walked to the center of the stage and looked up at his opponent.
Standing opposite him was also an outer court disciple, named Li Rui. Mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivation, wearing a brand-new Azure Cloud Sect outer court martial suit, hair combed meticulously.
At this moment, Li Rui stood with his arms crossed, his eyes revealing an undisguised arrogance and disdain.
He had naturally heard the story of the servant named A-Song ascending to the heavens in a single step. His heart was filled with jealousy toward that kind of good luck.
And this jealousy naturally transformed into extreme contempt when facing A-Song's "waste brother" who had no Spirit Root.
"Your brother is a divine dragon in the sky, a personal disciple of the Sect Master. You are just a waste Spirit Root servant who can't even cultivate Qi sense."
Li Rui looked at Mo Fan coldly, sneering inwardly.
"Today, in front of everyone, I will make you recognize reality! The cultivation world is a place of strength; you can't survive relying on nepotism!"
Holding this mentality of wanting to establish dominance with a single strike and ruthlessly crush the dignity of the "family member," Li Rui didn't even bother to draw the longsword at his waist.
He didn't even put up the starting [ Water Ripple Shield ]!
Instead, in an extreme act of flexing, he placed one hand behind his back and rapidly formed a flashy hand seal in front of his chest with the other.
He was going to use all the spiritual energy in his body to unleash a high-tier burst spell, instantly one-shotting this ignorant servant and sweeping him off the stage!
"Match, begin!" the referee deacon commanded.
The moment his voice fell, the hand seal in Li Rui's hand was already formed.
"Get the hell down!"
Li Rui shouted fiercely, thrusting his palm forward violently.
BOOM!
An [ Explosive Fireball ]—the size of a watermelon, darker in color than a standard fireball spell, and carrying scorching heat—howled through the air.
Bringing a suffocating wave of heat, it smashed straight toward Mo Fan's face!
Extremely fast speed, astonishing momentum!
Some timid female disciples below the stage even cried out in alarm and covered their eyes, terrified of seeing the gruesome sight of the servant being burned into a charred log.
However.
Facing this menacing, high-temperature fireball, Mo Fan seemed to have taken root. He stood in place, completely motionless.
He didn't dodge in panic, nor did he uselessly raise his arms to block. He simply watched calmly as the ball of flame rapidly expanded in his pupils.
"Courting death!" A trace of cruel pleasure flashed in Li Rui's eyes.
BOOM—!
A violent explosion blasted on the stage.
The scorching fireball detonated solidly on Mo Fan's left shoulder. Frenzied flames mixed with black smoke instantly swallowed him whole. The shockwave from the explosion even blew all the surrounding dust completely clean.
"Is it over just like that? What a piece of trash..." Li Rui snorted coldly, preparing to turn around and accept the cheers from the crowd.
However, the entire venue was dead silent.
No cheers. No mockery.
Everyone, including the experienced referee deacon, was currently staring with widened eyes like strangled ducks at the cloud of smoke on the stage.
A breeze blew past, and the smoke dispersed.
That dusty figure was still standing steadily in place like an unshakeable iron tower, not having moved his feet even a fraction.
The servant's cyan clothes on his left shoulder had been burned into a large charred hole by the raging fire. But on the exposed skin, there were no bloody or mangled burns whatsoever.
On the contrary, under the sunlight, that shoulder—which should have been fragile flesh and blood—was currently shimmering with a cold, dense luster akin to black iron!
Let alone being charred, not even a patch of skin or a single hair was broken!
Using just his physical body, he forcibly tanked the full-force spell bombardment of a mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator!
Shock.
A uniform sound of sharp intakes of breath rang out below the stage instantly. The waves of mockery and disdain from just now were like a resounding slap, ruthlessly striking their own faces.
"Th-This... How is this possible?!"
Watching the explosive fireball he was so proud of failing to even break the opponent's defense, Li Rui's brain experienced a temporary blue-screen crash. He froze in place as if he had seen a ghost.
After a brief shock, Li Rui's combat instincts drove him to retreat and pull distance, wanting to form seals and cast a spell again.
But he didn't even realize that his strike just now—which had drained all his spiritual energy purely for the sake of flexing—had already left his dantian nearly empty.
And how could Mo Fan give him the time to channel his cast bar?
"A mage's melee combat is so weak it makes me want to cry."
A cruel sneer hooked the corner of Mo Fan's mouth under his hat.
The moment Li Rui's feet moved back half an inch, Mo Fan's left hand formed an empty grip within his wide sleeve.
[ Skill: Touch of Grave Chill ]
A burst of extreme, freezing death energy, absolutely imperceptible to the naked eye, erupted instantly along the Pale Bone Scepter on his back.
Crossing the distance of a dozen meters, it locked dead onto Li Rui.
This was an invisible, fatal hard CC.
Hum!
Li Rui suddenly felt as if the blood in his entire body had frozen in this instant. An extremely bizarre sensation of paralysis shot straight up his spine to his brain.
His backward retreating motion instantly turned into a highly comical, slow-motion replay.
Borrowing this stiffness period of less than half a breath from the opponent, Mo Fan moved.
Hidden beneath his pant legs, the leg muscles that had been tempered thousands of times suddenly tensed and exploded with force.
BANG!
The hard marble arena stage actually cracked under his foot, forced into two dense, web-like fissures!
Like an enraged giant bear breaking out of its cage, carrying an extremely wild oppressive pressure, Mo Fan closed in. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the dozen-meter distance and appeared right in front of Li Rui.
He didn't even unwrap the coarse cloth from his scepter.
His hands crossed, gripping the end of the Pale Bone Scepter. Unifying his waist and stance, he swung this bone weapon weighing over a hundred pounds like a sledgehammer, carving out an ear-piercing sonic boom in mid-air!
WHOOSH—!
This strike contained no light or shadow of spells; only pure, suffocating physical destructive power.
The frenzied gale from the rod felt tangible, scraping Li Rui's face painfully.
In that instant, Li Rui's frozen nerves finally felt the terror of death. He watched helplessly as that rough "wooden stick" rapidly enlarged in his vision, yet he didn't even have the strength to raise his hand to block.
"I'm going to die..."
HUM!
The heavy, mountain-like head of the rod forcibly stopped a mere half-inch away from Li Rui's temple.
From extreme motion to extreme stillness, it displayed Mo Fan's terrifying control over his power.
But even so, the frenzied astral wind brought about by the swing of immense force still acted like an invisible blade, instantly blasting Li Rui's meticulously combed topknot into pieces.
Hair disheveled, looking completely wretched.
That overwhelming killing intent directly pierced through Li Rui's fragile psychological defenses.
Thud.
Li Rui's legs went soft. In front of thousands of people in the venue, he actually collapsed onto the arena stage with a plop.
His face was pale as paper, his whole body trembling like sifting chaff, unable to even force the words "I surrender" out of his throat.
One strike. Just one strike.
Without even revealing a weapon, without even touching the opponent, he directly scared a mid-stage Qi Condensation outer court disciple into collapsing on the ground.
Mo Fan remained expressionless.
He slowly withdrew the coarse-cloth-wrapped long rod and placed it back on his back. Then, he lowered his head slightly, looking down condescendingly at the limp Li Rui.
His eyes held no mockery, only an indifference akin to looking at an ant.
At this moment, the area around the entire Group C arena was dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.
The disciples who were clamoring just moments ago seemed to have stopped breathing. How was this a trash servant? This was clearly a humanoid Spirit Beast wearing human skin!
The referee deacon beside the stage froze for a full three seconds. Only when a gust of wind woke him did he swallow hard.
Looking at the coarse-clothed youth standing in the sunlight, seemingly like a descended demon god, he stuttered as he loudly announced:
"Match Sixty-Four... Servant District, Lu Xiaoqi, Wins!"