The performances of the others left Ye Tian, who knew nothing of martial arts, staring dumbfounded. Their moves were decisive, their perseverance astonishing. Though he had never seen Ren Qiang make a move, his breath was long and steady; clearly, he was no weakling either.
Because cultivators of the Mortal Realm possessed limited spiritual power, it was almost impossible for them to master Daoist arts. Even if some divided their attention to practice them, they only learned minor spells with little power, no different from parlor tricks.
Therefore, Mortal Realm cultivators rarely fought others. Once they did, it became close-quarters combat, where life and death were decided in an instant.
Having never trained in martial arts was undoubtedly a tremendous weakness for Ye Tian. If not for his two crucial advantages, he would have held almost no hope of becoming a registered disciple.
After returning to his room, Ye Tian ran through every possible scenario of facing all the others in his mind, then let out a faint sigh.
He had thought that cultivating a technique would let him tower above the masses. Now, it seemed he had been thinking too simply. Compared to those hardened, cold-blooded people, his lack of bloodshed experience was a weakness he could not avoid. He had to resolve it.
The solution was simple. There were plenty of bandits in the nearby mountains. All he needed was a sword to overcome this weakness.
To be honest, the trial matches were fights to the death. They were no less dangerous than his encounter with the zombie, and he could not afford to hesitate or show mercy. Even if he could not bring himself to do it, he still had to.
Ever since he had decided to become a disciple of Blazing Fire Temple, Ye Tian had