At a glance, it was obvious that Ten Thousand Swords Holy Mountain had played an open, aboveboard gambit. If they wanted it, fine—come and fight for it with their own strength. If they could not seize it, then they could not blame anyone but themselves for being too weak.
With this move, not only had they made a name for themselves, they had suffered no losses whatsoever. They had plainly played everyone for fools, yet the crowd dared to be angry but not speak out.
"Kid, are you going?"
Toutian asked Ye Buqu beside him.
Ye Buqu's eyes had long since been drawn to the Black Iron Heavy Sword. The moment he heard Toutian's question, he immediately nodded, his eyes brimming with determination.
"Of course I'm going. This sword was practically tailor-made for me. I must have it."
Ye Buqu clenched his fists, his face full of resolve. Toutian nodded in satisfaction. This time, it was in the bag—he knew Ye Buqu's strength well.
Back then, Ye Buqu had hung a true immortal's direct descendant up and hammered him. Fighting the prodigies of these native powers would be child's play.
Over the years, they had traveled through no fewer than eight hundred, if not a thousand, worlds. Whenever they arrived in a new world, Ye Buqu would challenge the prodigies of its native powers. He had fought countless battles, yet had never suffered a single defeat.
Even Toutian had been left baffled by Ye Buqu. No talent to speak of, nothing special in any regard, no special physique either, and his cultivation speed was absurdly slow—yet his combat strength was unbelievably formidable.
In a few hundred years, Toutian could have trained any prodigy with even a little talent into the immortal realm. But Ye Buqu? After pouring mountains of resources