When my turn came, my opponent seemed to know I was formidable. Even after losing the previous round, they still dared to send their weakest fighter against me. The moment they made a move, I knew they had placed their biggest bets on the final three matches. But rather than worry about that, I naturally had to win this round first. Thus, in the blink of an eye, I reduced my opponent to Origin Returning. I also slashed an empty stroke across his neck.
My opponent was thoroughly convinced of his defeat, of course, and even the referee praised my performance. After all, if that sword strike had landed solidly, it would have drawn a great deal of blood at the very least. The opponent would not need to take part in the next match.
Of course, even though I had spared my opponent's dignity, that did not mean they would go easy on us in the matches that followed. To minimize their losses, they sent out their strongest fighter in the third round to deal with Mo Xiaoning.
With several victories behind him, Mo Xiaoning was brimming with confidence. He charged forward with his fists swinging. But this time, the opposing captain was quite clever—and extremely skilled in the art of creating clones. In an instant, hundreds of figures appeared across the battlefield, leaving Mo Xiaoning unsure where to attack.
Relying on his towering, mighty condensed body, Mo Xiaoning charged recklessly through the battlefield, blasting wildly along the way and destroying many of the clones. But the opponent had been counting on exactly that. Their entire strategy was to lure Mo Xiaoning into attacking those clones again and again.
Just as I had expected, after smashing over a hundred clones, Mo Xiaoning exposed his rash state of mind, as