Then he flipped onto the Soul Fighting Platform, landing with a deliberate thud. His Soul Power burst outward, sending a gust of wind straight at Huo Yuhao's face.
It was a show of force, and his usual opening move—seize the initiative and crush the opponent with sheer presence.
Huo Yuhao didn't move a muscle. He didn't even blink.
The two faced each other, ten meters apart.
Liu Ping narrowed his eyes slightly, surprise flickering through his mind.
This guy was steadier than he'd expected.
"Just give up! You can't beat me!"
Before the fight began, Liu Ping spoke with complete confidence.
His voice was loud, deliberately carrying to everyone below the platform.
He wanted everyone to know that the outcome of this battle had been decided from the start.
Huo Yuhao said nothing.
He simply stood there, his gaze as calm as still water as it rested on Liu Ping, as though he were looking at a stranger who had nothing to do with him.
When Liu Ping saw that Huo Yuhao wasn't even acknowledging him, he didn't get angry.
So what if he ignored him?
Once Liu Ping slashed him badly enough, the guy would naturally beg for mercy.
Then Liu Ping could hear him say "I give up" as many times as he liked.
The referee glanced at them, confirmed they were ready, and raised his right hand high—
"Begin!"
The instant the word fell, Liu Ping moved.
He clenched his right hand in front of him, and a gleaming single-handed longsword appeared out of thin air. He gripped it firmly.
The blade was about three feet long. Its edge gleamed with a cold, sinister light, and its thick spine carried a fierce, killing aura.
At the same time, two Soul Rings slowly rose beneath his feet—two bright yellow rings, shining beneath the sunlight.
A twenty-three-level Soul Grandmaster, with two Soul Rings and genuine combat strength.
A wave of startled cries erupted below the platform—
"Two Soul Rings! He really is a Soul Grandmaster!"
"That Huo Yuhao's done for. Completely done for."
"I told you, how could he possibly win? Zhou Yi isn't stupid."
The crowd's chatter surged like a tide. No one thought Huo Yuhao had any chance left.
Huo Yuhao still stood where he was, without moving a muscle.
Deep in his eyes, a gleam of pale white light quietly appeared—his Spirit Eye Martial Soul, possessed.
But no Soul Ring appeared beneath his feet.
Not even one.
Sharp-eyed spectators below immediately noticed—
"Wait, why doesn't he have any Soul Rings?"
"He's possessed his Martial Soul, but he has no Soul Rings? What's going on?"
"Could it be... he hasn't even absorbed a Soul Ring?"
"That can't be. How did he break through without a Soul Ring?"
Amid the discussion, Liu Ping noticed it too.
His brow furrowed slightly, but soon relaxed. So what if he had no Soul Ring?
Even if he did have one, thirteen levels of Soul Power wouldn't make him a match.
Liu Ping didn't hesitate any longer. He pushed off hard, shooting toward Huo Yuhao like an arrow!
"First Soul Skill: Edge!"
The first yellow Soul Ring beneath his feet suddenly lit up, and an invisible force surged into his sword.
The blade trembled faintly, its edge gleaming ever sharper. This was an enhancement-type Soul Skill that increased the sharpness and weight of his Martial Soul.
A single slash could cleave through an iron plate.
The ten-meter distance vanished in an instant.
Liu Ping closed in on Huo Yuhao, raised his longsword high with his right hand, and watched as the second Soul Ring beneath his feet slowly lit up—
"Second Soul Skill: Black Iron Slash!"
The blade suddenly grew heavy, as though bearing the weight of a thousand jun, and came crashing down toward Huo Yuhao's face!
The blow was fast and vicious, carrying the full force of a twenty-three-level Soul Power strike. The wind howled around the blade, as if it were cleaving the very air!
Everyone below held their breath—
After that strike, Huo Yuhao would either be dead or crippled!
And yet—
Huo Yuhao remained rooted to the spot, as motionless as a wooden dummy.
He quietly watched Liu Ping approach, watched him raise his longsword high, watched the blade sweep toward his face with a fierce rush of wind.
No dodging. No defense. Not even a change in expression.
"He's already that close. Why isn't he moving?"
"I think he's scared stiff!"
"Boring. I told you, how could someone in their twenties beat someone in their teens?"
Seeing this, the crowd below wore expressions that said they'd known it all along.
Those who had bet Huo Yuhao would lose already had the joy of impending winnings on their faces.
At the front of the crowd, Mu Jin's brows drew tightly together.
Watching that motionless figure on the platform, she felt a complicated emotion she couldn't put into words. Could it be... she really had misjudged him?
Had the boy's unnerving certainty in the classroom just been a bluff?
Not far away, a trace of uncertainty also crossed Ning Tian's eyes.
She unconsciously gripped her sleeve, her gaze fixed on Huo Yuhao. No, something was wrong.
A moment ago, she had clearly sensed a calmness and mystery in this boy that didn't match his age.
That sort of bearing couldn't have been faked.
But why...
The blade was now less than three feet from Huo Yuhao's face.
Two feet.
One foot.
The wind from the blade rushed over him, lifting the loose hair above Huo Yuhao's forehead.
Some people below had already begun to cheer—
At that very instant.
Huo Yuhao moved.
He raised his right hand.
The motion wasn't fast. It was slow, even. He simply lifted his hand in an utterly ordinary manner, as if giving a casual wave.
Then—
He gently caught the blade between two fingers.
"Snap."
A soft sound.
Liu Ping's sword, descending like thunder, came to an abrupt halt.
The blade was caught between Huo Yuhao's fingers, utterly motionless, as if a great mountain had pressed down on it.
The smug look on Liu Ping's face froze.
He was stunned for a moment, then gritted his teeth. The veins in his arm bulged as he threw all his strength into pressing down—
It didn't budge.
He tried to yank the sword back—
Still, it didn't budge.
Huo Yuhao's two fingers held the blade with effortless ease, yet they were like a divine mountain, pinning Liu Ping's longsword firmly in place.
"This... how is this possible?!"
Liu Ping's pupils shrank. His face was full of disbelief.
Below the platform, there was a deathly silence.
Everyone stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, as though a body-binding spell had been cast on them.
What kind of monster was this?!
Catching a blade between two fingers?!
That was the full-force strike of a twenty-three-level Soul Grandmaster, his Martial Soul empowered by an enhancement Soul Skill!
How could it possibly... be stopped by two fingers?!
On the Soul Fighting Platform, Huo Yuhao's expression remained unchanged.
His fingers held the blade steady as he felt its faint force. His heart was perfectly calm.
The first and second layers of the Myriad Tribulation Indestructible Body—Copper Skin Golden Muscle—were complete.
Even a Hundred-Year Soul Beast's full-strength claw couldn't hurt him, much less the ordinary iron sword in Liu Ping's hand.
A twenty-three-level Soul Grandmaster?
In front of him, Liu Ping was no different from a child who had just learned to walk.
Cold sweat seeped across Liu Ping's forehead.
He struggled with all his might, but the longsword might as well have been welded to Huo Yuhao's fingertips. No matter what he did, it wouldn't move.
The Martial Soul he'd always been proud of, the longsword that had made his name—all of it now seemed like a ridiculous toy.
"You... just what..."
He parted his lips, his voice trembling.
Huo Yuhao didn't answer.
He simply raised his eyes and glanced at Liu Ping.
His gaze was as calm as still water. There was no mockery, no smugness, not even the slightest trace of emotion.
But that look sent a bone-deep chill creeping through Liu Ping from head to toe.
It wasn't the look of someone facing an opponent. It was more like the look one gave an ant.
In the next instant, Huo Yuhao moved.
He gently released the blade between his fingers, then turned his right hand and brought his five fingers together, pushing his palm forward in a simple, level strike.
The movement was still unhurried, almost gentle.
But the instant his palm moved, an invisible force began to gather, surge, and overlap within it—
"First Layer Overlapping Wave Palm!"
The palm strike rolled like waves, one layer following another.
Before the force even reached him, Liu Ping felt a power like an avalanche bearing down on him.
He tried to dodge, tried to retreat, but his body seemed pinned in place. He couldn't move.
"Bang!"
The palm struck Liu Ping squarely in the chest.
Liu Ping felt as if a charging rhinoceros had slammed into his chest. A tremendous force surged into him like an avalanche.
The longsword flew from his hand, dissolving into specks of starlight in midair.
His entire body flew backward like a kite with its string cut.
"Bang!"
He crashed heavily onto the Soul Fighting Platform and slid several meters, only stopping just short of the edge.
His eyes rolled back, his breathing grew faint, and he passed out completely.
One move.
Just one move.
A twenty-three-level Soul Grandmaster, taken out in an instant.
The entire arena fell deathly silent. Not even a pin could be heard.
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