"It's over!"
At that moment, Xia Ping finished the final group-stage match. He watched as his opponent, an ordinary Holy Dragon, was blown apart by a single punch from him, disbelief seemingly surfacing deep within its eyes.
He was then declared first in his group, officially securing the right to compete. Among the one hundred and eight groups, he was the fastest to earn qualification.
The other groups were still locked in grueling matches, fighting fiercely.
"Not a bad experience."
Xia Ping smiled faintly. After nearly four thousand battles—and almost all against Holy Dragons of the same level—he had gained enormous benefits and rewards.
To be honest, during this period, he had relied too heavily on the magic treasures he carried and the power of his bloodline, somewhat neglecting his own combat skills and fighting instincts.
Yet this martial arts tournament had completely stripped away all such advantages. Everyone possessed the same physical qualities; all that was tested was their combat techniques and awareness.
This allowed him to reclaim the combat skills and experience he had cast aside long ago, as though the battle memories buried deep within his blood had surged into his mind in an instant.
He thoroughly integrated every combat technique and divine ability he possessed, seemingly reaching a state of minute mastery.
At this moment, he was more familiar with his own body than he had ever been before, familiar with every last trace of power within himself.
After these four thousand battles, he felt that the bottleneck of his true body had loosened considerably. The mana deep within him was rapidly increasing, and his comprehension of the laws of space had become even more profound.
It seemed that the late Ancient Realm was no longer far away.
"Still, the reason these battles were so easy