Jiang Ping An had no idea that the powerful figures atop the mountain were discussing him, nor did he know anything about the Ghost Demon Emperor.
Only half an hour remained before the first round of the competition ended, and all his attention was fixed on the swarm before him.
Under the influence of Ghost Magic Power, the swarm's strength had been greatly weakened.
Green demon bones condensed at his joints—elbows, knees, and more—as he danced through the swarm.
Every attack, every movement, had been tempered through countless battles. There was not a single superfluous motion.
Every movement injured the insects, sending sprays of blood flying.
Swarms upon swarms of insects fell, their blood gathering in the low ground and forming little streams.
During this final half hour, every team was fighting with everything they had.
The rankings of the various cities shifted at breakneck speed. Some fell, while others rose.
The number of casualties was also rapidly increasing. However, dying in the Divine Ruins Space did not mean real death; it only meant elimination.
"The competition is over."
As the three hours ran out, the Deputy Hall Master's voice rang out over the battlefield.
The densely packed Insectoid Race army and corpses vanished, as though none of it had ever happened.
The surviving participating disciples collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, gulping for air, drenched in sweat.
The figures simulated by the Divine Ruins Space were extraordinarily lifelike. The pain and exhaustion felt exactly as they did in reality.
Three hours of intense battle had left them utterly spent.
Many participating disciples looked up at the light screen overhead to check their cities' rankings.
"Out of one hundred and eighty-six cities, we only ranked ninety-eighth. We only reached the top fifty percent... We've been eliminated."
"We barely squeezed into