On the arena, the battle between Ge Chuan and Cheng Zhengchu had already reached a white-hot pitch.
The two of them had clearly fought themselves into real fury. All kinds of trump-card methods came out one after another, and flashes of blades and shadows of swords nearly engulfed the entire arena. The terrifying energy fluctuations made even some of the weaker spectators around the outer perimeter turn pale and retreat again and again, despite the formation light screen between them.
Behind Ge Chuan, the illusory figure of a giant spirit towering up to the heavens and standing upon the earth faintly appeared. The broad saber in his hand seemed to merge with it, and every slash carried an aura like heaven opening and earth paving.
Around Cheng Zhengchu, countless twisted mirror surfaces and phantoms appeared. His true body continuously flickered and shifted among them, while sword light came Heading Towards Ge Chuan from every angle.
The two fought from the center of the arena to its edge, then killed their way back from the edge to the center. Wherever they passed, the incomparably sturdy ground of the arena was plowed into deep gullies, only to be swiftly repaired by the formation immediately after.
This fierce battle lasted roughly a quarter hour.
At last, after an earth-shaking clash, the two figures abruptly separated, each sliding back hundreds of li.
Ge Chuan's chest rose and fell violently. The arm gripping his saber trembled slightly, and the webbing between his thumb and forefinger had already split open, blood dripping down along the saber hilt. The domineering saber intent around him remained powerful, but deep in his eyes, a trace of fatigue flashed past.
Cheng Zhengchu was not much better. His face was as pale as paper, and several cuts torn by saber qi