Upon the Immortal Dao Arena.
The scent of blood drifted on the wind, staining the weathered ancient stone steps red.
The battle had not stopped because of Shi Hao's consecutive victories. Instead, it had fallen into a bizarre state.
Many still clung to a sliver of hope, believing that a war of attrition would eventually drain this youth's power.
Yet reality gave them all a resounding slap across the face.
Fifty battles, one hundred battles, two hundred battles.
Shi Hao stood at the center of the arena, straight and unyielding as a pine.
There was not the slightest sign of exhaustion in him. Not only had his aura not weakened, but he had grown fiercer with every battle.
The immense foundation he possessed was thoroughly stirred awake by the successive great battles.
The Three Immortal Qi circling above his head became ever more dazzling—one black, one white, and one chaotic. Like three creation True Dragons, they guarded him at their center.
Any challenger who stepped onto the stage, whether a renowned First Generation or an ancient freak lurking in the shadows, could not withstand even a single move before Shi Hao.
Shi Hao did not use any elaborate precious techniques. He only threw the purest of bodily punches, or unleashed a bolt of lightning from his fingertips.
Every strike carried the force of a thousand jun, clean and decisive.
"Bang."
Another challenger wielding a powerful treasure had his chest pierced by Shi Hao's fist. Together with that damaged True God artifact, he exploded into a cloud of blood mist in midair.
Several hundred consecutive victories.
Corpses now lay strewn around the arena, blood pooling into streams that slowly flowed down the ancient stone steps.
Those challengers who had once been consumed with fervor finally came to their senses. Their eyes