The clash continued.
At first glance, it was exactly as everyone had predicted.
After the unexpected resistance from Lin Xuan, Yuan Jie dominated the tempo with his overwhelming power.
His Soul Formation qi surged endlessly, each strike heavier than the last.
His sword techniques were not refined or elegant, but they were brutally effective—battle-tested moves forged through countless life-and-death missions.
Every swing carried killing intent; every step forced Lin Xuan closer to the edge of the arena.
Boom!
Another downward strike smashed into the platform, cracking stone and sending fragments flying.
Lin Xuan slid backward, boots scraping against the ground. His sleeve was torn, a thin line of blood appearing along his arm.
The crowd stirred.
"That's more like it."
"Nascent Soul can't compete with Soul Formation after all."
"Yuan Jie hasn't even used his full strength yet."
…
Fei Ling's brows furrowed deeply. Her fingers clenched unconsciously.
