After finalizing this shamelessly brilliant "heel route" plan, the final stone in his heart finally hit the ground, and his entire being radiated high spirits. As for tomorrow's opponent, Zhao Long...
"Sorry, brother. Since we're both body cultivators, I'll have to wrong you and use you as my stepping stone to the peak of traffic and clout."
Mo Fan stretched without a shred of guilt, fell backward onto the bed, and slept soundly without a single dream.
The next day.
Azure Cloud Sect outer court martial arena. The Round of 16 to 8 elimination matches officially commenced.
Today, the area around the Group C stage was a sea of people. Even the surrounding trees were hung with servants and outer court disciples eager for a good show.
For no other reason than this match had been hyped to the heavens by the underground betting pools—"The Battle for the Strongest Body Cultivator of the Outer Court."
BANG!
With a muffled boom, a burly man with knotted muscles, looking like an iron tower, leaped heavily onto the arena stage. The impact even sent a web of fine cracks rippling through the hard bluestone floor.
Ranked third on the intelligence list, the orthodox dual cultivator of spells and body, Zhao Long.
He wore a pair of gleaming black profound iron gauntlets on his hands. His bare arms still bore the lingering scars from his previous matches.
At this moment, like a fierce beast that had caught the scent of blood, he stared with burning eyes at Mo Fan, who was slowly walking onto the stage, his gaze full of fanatical battle intent.
"Are you that 'One-Strike Superman' Lu Xiaoqi?"
Zhao Long twisted his neck, emitting crisp popping sounds like roasted beans. "I heard you strike ruthlessly, a real tough guy. Today, I'd like to see just how hard the bones of a wild-path body cultivator like you really are!"
"Senior Brother Zhao flatters me. I just have a bit more brute force."
Mo Fan, carrying that coarse-cloth-wrapped long rod on his back, acted like an honest, simple country bumpkin. But internally, he had already entered the director's "micro-management mode."
To make his arrogant act of "courting" the ice queen later look more authentic—like a reckless brute whose brain was addled by lust—and to make his own physical body appear less perverted, Mo Fan made a decision.
For this match: no backup summons, no dirty tricks.
He completely sealed off all Necromancy spells, including [ Skeletal Armament ] and [ Touch of Grave Chill ].
Relying purely on his flesh, he would engage in a head-on, no-special-effects, brutal melee brawl with this big guy!
"Match begins!" the referee deacon commanded.
"ROAR!"
Zhao Long didn't form any flashy hand seals. He directly enveloped himself in a thick layer of [ Stone Skin Spell ], kicked his legs violently off the ground, and crashed forward like an out-of-control rhinoceros.
His profound iron heavy fist, carrying a mournful wind, aimed straight for Mo Fan's face!
Mo Fan's eyes focused. Instead of retreating, he advanced, meeting the attack with an equally unadorned straight punch.
BOOM!
Two prehistoric behemoths collided viciously.
No gorgeous light and shadow, no dazzling spells, only the most primal, violent, muffled thud of bone and muscle clashing!
A visible ring of white air blasted out from where their fists met, blowing the front-row audience below the stage several steps back.
"Satisfying!"
Zhao Long laughed heartily. Although he was shocked back half a step, the battle intent in his eyes burned to the absolute limit.
His fists moved like the wind, a stormy offensive instantly enveloping Mo Fan.
Amidst this frenzied onslaught, Mo Fan deliberately suppressed the defensive power of his consummate Iron Bones Stage.
BAM!
Zhao Long landed a heavy, powerful hook on Mo Fan's left ribs.
Going with the flow, Mo Fan removed a trace of his skin's defense, allowing the force to penetrate his body. He let out a muffled grunt and stumbled backward a few steps.
A trace of fresh blood oozed extremely naturally from the corner of his mouth, and a shocking bruise surfaced on his bronze skin.
"Great..."
Mo Fan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Not only was he not panicked, but he let out a long sigh of relief in his heart.
"Finally bleeding! This Iron Bones Stage was trained too hard. If I didn't actively drop my defense, he couldn't even break my skin! I wouldn't know how to act injured!"
Opposite him, Zhao Long clearly didn't know that Mo Fan wasn't even using half his strength.
Seeing that he broke his opponent's defense, Zhao Long felt he had found an evenly matched opponent and fought with exhilarating passion.
"Hahaha! Hard bones! Junior Brother Lu, it's been a long time since anyone dared to take this punch of mine head-on in the arena! Come again!"
Although Zhao Long was a big guy with muscles for brains, his personality was straightforward. Fighting with high spirits, he didn't forget to shout friendly provocations.
"Senior Brother Zhao's fists... aren't bad either!"
Mo Fan panted heavily. To avoid appearing too aloof, he occasionally shouted back a response, then pounced forward again like a red-eyed gambler.
The two traded blows back and forth on the stage, fist to flesh. The muffled sounds of the beatings made the audience below boil with hot blood, crying out in alarm repeatedly.
The fierce battle lasted for a full stick of incense's time.
Zhao Long was genuinely exhausted. The Stone Skin Spell on his body was mostly shattered, sweat mixed with blood dripped down, and his breathing was as heavy as pulling a bellows.
As for Mo Fan, although he looked even more miserable than Zhao Long—face bruised purple and green, blood hanging from the corner of his mouth, panting like a bull just the same—all of this... was naturally faked.
Possessing a massive 150 HP cap, these minor flesh wounds were practically just a deep-tissue muscle massage.
"Almost time. If I keep acting, I'll miss lunch."
Mo Fan was getting a bit bored. Seeing the time was right, it was time to end this completely suspense-free battle.
Just as the two clashed hard again and separated.
Zhao Long took a deep breath, preparing to squeeze out the last bit of spiritual energy from his dantian to execute his decisive chain of heavy punches.
Old force gone, new force not yet born (animation lock). This was the most fatal opening for a body cultivator!
Mo Fan's eyes instantly became as sharp as knives.
He didn't retreat. His foot stomped violently on the bluestone slab, shattering the floor tile with a CRACK.
His entire body tilted sideways bizarrely, instantly compressing all the power in his body into his right shoulder. Like a toppling iron mountain, carrying the momentum of a thunderbolt, he slammed ruthlessly into Zhao Long's chest!
Chinese Kung Fu! Iron Mountain Lean (Tieshan Kao)!
BOOM—!!!
A massive explosion.
Zhao Long didn't even have time to scream. The remaining stone skin armor on his chest instantly filled with spiderweb-like cracks before shattering explosively.
His massive body, as if struck by a battering ram, lifted off the ground, carved a miserable parabola in mid-air, flew directly out of the arena's boundaries, and smashed heavily into the clearing outside the crowd.
The dust settled.
"Cough, cough..." Zhao Long struggled on the ground twice but ultimately failed to get up. He simply lay spread-eagle, flashed a thumbs-up toward the stage, and then fainted.
The venue was silent for a second, followed by a landslide of thunderous cheers.
"Match Sixty-Four, servant district Lu Xiaoqi, wins! Advances to the Top 8!"
The referee deacon's resonant voice echoed above the martial arena.
Standing on the ruined stage, Mo Fan casually wiped the "fresh blood" from the corner of his mouth. His gaze passed over the cheering crowd, looking toward the misty inner sect main peak in the distance.
He let out a long sigh of relief in his heart.
"The inner sect disciple token is finally secured in my pocket."
The primary goal had been achieved. Next, it was time for his personal solo performance.
According to the procedure of the Azure Cloud Sect's outer court Grand Tournament, after the Top 8 were born, there would be a highly anticipated "Trash Talk Segment" to build hype for the ranking matches seven days later.
The referee deacon walked onto the stage beaming with smiles, handing Mo Fan a rune-carved [ Sound-Transmitting Jade ]. This item could magnify sound dozens of times, spreading it throughout the entire martial arena.
"Martial Nephew Lu, congratulations on advancing to the Top 8," the deacon said smilingly. "According to the rules, you can say a few hype words to your potential opponents in the upcoming quarterfinals. Young man, don't hold back; say whatever you want to boost morale."
Usually at times like this, because the quarterfinal matchups hadn't been drawn yet, competitors mostly spouted clichés like "I will definitely take the crown" or "See you in the inner sect." It wasn't really a grand spectacle.
The entire venue gradually quieted down.
Even the previously absent-minded inner sect elders on the high platform leaned forward with keen interest, wanting to hear what arrogant words this body cultivation dark horse—who had fought his way up from the bottom and was extremely ruthless to himself—would spout.
Mo Fan took the Sound-Transmitting Jade and took a deep breath.
He didn't look at the other competitors who had already secured their Top 8 spots.
He slowly shifted his gaze, looking directly past the countless crowded heads, and locked dead onto a beautiful silhouette in the distant waiting area.
There, the Top 3 favorite to win the championship, the cold and glamorous female cultivator Shen Qiu, was sitting bored in her chair. She hadn't taken the stage yet.
Head lowered, she was using a pristine white silk handkerchief to gently wipe the purple-black soft whip in her hands. Her temperament was aloof and cold, like an unreachable flower on a high peak that could not be profaned.
Mo Fan split his bloodshot, bruised mouth into a grin.
Under the gaze of tens of thousands of people in the venue, including the high-level elders, he revealed an extremely arrogant, crude, and even somewhat lecherous villain's smile.
He raised the Sound-Transmitting Jade.
His voice, like rolling muffled thunder, exploded with absolute clarity in the ears of every single person in the Azure Cloud Sect:
"Senior Sister Shen Qiu!"
"I LIKE YOU!!!"