Qin Fengming watched the contests atop the three enormous arenas before him with little interest. He had experienced this kind of fighting countless times already.
Back in the Sky Flame Mountain Range of the Yuanfeng Empire, he had once faced tens of thousands of Core Formation cultivators from the Devil Dao Sect alone. He had also remained in that incomparably harsh, blazing environment for ten years. Compared with the battles he had experienced then, these contests were nowhere near as savage. The fighting before him now seemed as dull as children brawling.
There were sixty or seventy cultivators at the late Ghost Commander stage or peak Ghost Commander, but only forty or fifty truly wished to take the field.
Yet if all forty or fifty of them actually fought one another, it would take at least several days.
Although Ghost Commander cultivators all possessed powerful life-bound magical treasures or secret arts, deciding victory or defeat in a short time was still no easy matter.
Qin Fengming watched only a few contests before rising. To him, remaining here to watch such contests was simply too much of a waste of time. He had no interest in sitting here for two days.
Although only eight matches had taken place, one Rogue Cultivator had already lost his left leg, while an old man surnamed Ding from a cultivation family had been cut in half at the waist by his opponent and died on the spot.
Faced with such a bloody scene, not only were the spectators not shocked into retreating, there were even plenty of people eager to try their luck.
Qin Fengming moved and headed straight for Arena One. Just as he rose, two other cultivators also stood up, wanting to fly toward the elevated platform where the winner had just been