Zhou Qi Six people came out from behind Ascendant Immortal Platform and stepped onto the ring.
Fifty-eight looks came towards him all at once.
With undisguised fighting spirit.
They fought desperately for three days and fought their way out of more than 1,600 people to get here.
And these six people, after three days of rest and not playing a single game, were directly parachuted into the top sixty-four.
No one would feel balanced.
No one who can cultivate to Foundation Establishment Middle Stage or above is a coward.
A man standing at the front, in his early thirties, with a strong back and a strong back, Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer Peak, glanced across the faces of the six people, and finally landed on Zhao Wuji, with the corners of his mouth raised slightly, with a hint of provocation.
Zhao Wuji looked unkind and a little unhappy.
He was the weakest of the group, and half of the warlike glances in the crowd were directed at him.
Zhou Qi stood with his hands behind his back, Dark Moon Saber hanging by his side, his eyes swept over the players on the ring, and then back again.
For him, there is no suspense about the first place. The difference in strength is too big, and the difference between cloud and mud is not exaggerated.
Xiao Huo stood next to Zhou Qi, with his arms crossed and his face calm, as if he was extremely confident.
At the edge of the ring, the staff began to organize the drawing of lots.
The top sixty-four compete against each other, and the winner advances to the top thirty-two, and then fights to the top sixteen, and the top ten are finally determined.
The seeded players are not exempted and must be drawn by lots.
Drawing lots is very simple. If two people draw the same lot, they need to fight.
The drawing of lots for the sixty-four people soon ended, and the two-by-two battle officially began.
The two arenas started fighting at the same time, and the contestants took turns taking the stage.
On the left side of the ring, two Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer monks were fighting with swords and swords. Spiritual Power flew around, one wielding a sword and the other using a knife. Sword Qi and the sword energy collided in the air, exploding into dazzling rays of light.
On the right side of the ring, Han Qianshan faced off against a Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer. Their level of suppression was obvious, and the winner was determined by three moves.
The audience in the stands enjoyed watching it, and the cheers became louder and louder.
"Okay! This sword is beautiful!"
"The one on the left is going to lose, Spiritual Power can't keep up!"
"The one on the right is too strong, not on the same level at all..."
The seeded players have a clear level of control over the ordinary players, and there is no suspense about the outcome.
However, the fighting between ordinary players became more intense. They were of similar strength, and no one was convinced by the other. They fought back and forth, and their flashy moves attracted exclamations from the stands.
In the fourth game, it's Zhou Qi's turn to play.
He straightened up from the pillar, Dark Moon Saber swayed slightly on his waist, and walked slowly onto the ring.
Opposite, a man in his early thirties was walking up from the other side of the ring.
He has a dark face and a lean build, Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer Middle Stage, and is holding a thick-backed machete in his hand.
That guy knew who he was up against from the moment he drew the lottery, there were only two Foundation Establishment, Ninth Layer Peak.
He stood on the edge of the ring, his face turned green, and he muttered, "This is too bad luck..."
But no one who can reach the top sixty-four is a coward.
He took a deep breath, stepped onto the ring bravely, stood opposite Zhou Qi, and held the machete in his hand tightly.
The referee glanced at the two men, raised his hand, and lowered it.
"Start."
The man took a deep breath and put his hands in a starting position. He just wanted to try a fight first--
Suddenly the world in front of me was spinning.
Before he could realize what was going on, he had already flown out.
The machete took off his hand, flipped twice in the air, fell to the bottom of the ring with a "bang", and rolled twice more before stopping.
He was lying on the ground, eyes full of stars, and only one thought in his mind: How did I get down?
There was dead silence in the whole place.
Then, the pot exploded.
"A slap? Just a slap?"
"Did he move? I didn't see him move!"
"Just one shot... and the guy flew away?"
"Foundation Establishment, Ninth Layer Peak... This gap is too outrageous..."
Some are excited, some are disappointed.
The showdown between the seeded players, which we had been looking forward to for a long time, ended in less than two seconds. This was too boring to watch.
Zhou Qi took back his hand and walked off the ring with no expression on his face, as if he had casually swatted a fly.
Walking back to the seeded players area, he leaned against the pillar and continued to rest with his eyes closed.
Sixty-four advanced to thirty-two, and all the seeded players were promoted, and no one was upset.
Then thirty-two entered into sixteen, and lots were drawn again.
The staff walked to the seeded players area with the lottery tube in hand. Zhou Qi randomly picked out a lottery ticket and took a look at it. Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer Peak was a little better than the previous game.
He handed the signature to the staff and walked back to his place.
After a few more games, it was Zhou Qi's turn to play again.
He walked onto the ring, and standing opposite him was a middle-aged man in his mid-thirties, Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer Peak, with a calm face, and he looked like a veteran of many battles.
The man was wearing a black suit, with no weapons around his waist, and was practicing boxing and kicking.
He stood opposite Zhou Qi. He was not as nervous as his previous opponent. Instead, he took a deep breath, put on a defensive posture, crossed his hands to protect his chest, and Spiritual Power condensed in front of his arms, forming a pale golden shield.
The shield is solid and thick, and it looks like it has been trained hard.
The referee glanced at the two men, raised his hand, and lowered it.
"Start."
Zhou Qi raised his hand and slapped him.
The middle-aged man was already prepared. He exerted force with both arms, Spiritual Power's shield instantly thickened, and he withstood the blow--
But still useless.
His entire figure was hit by a hammer, and the shields of both arms shattered instantly, with golden Spiritual Power fragments flying everywhere.
His body flew backwards, drew an arc, and fell under the ring, rolling twice before stopping.
He held up his arms and tried to get up, but his arms were as weak as lead, and he fell down halfway.
I could only lie there, looking at Zhou Qi on the ring in disbelief.
The whole place was quiet again.
Someone started counting the seconds. "One second... two seconds... two seconds again."
There was a burst of helpless laughter from the stands. "What else is there to do? I can just give him a walk."
Zhou Qi turned around and walked off the ring, his steps neither fast nor slow.
As he walked down the steps, he glanced at the arena on the other side.
The fighting is going on over there.
Zhao Wuji's opponent was the burly man with an evil eye during the draw.
Foundation Establishment, Sixth Layer Peak, with a thick back and a strong waist, is half a head taller than Zhao Wuji. He is holding a ghost-headed sword with a thick back and a sharp edge.
The big man stood on the ring, with muscles all over his body and a menacing attitude. His eyes were fixed on Zhao Wuji, with a sneer on his lips.
Zhao Wuji Although his level is much higher than that of his opponent, the fight is not easy.
The Han Dynasty's swordsmanship was very powerful, and every strike carried a life-threatening momentum. He opened and closed it widely, forcing Zhao Wuji to deal with it with all his strength.
When the ghost-head sword struck down, it hit the ground with a roaring sound, and the bluestone could even crack.
Zhao Wuji fought and retreated, the wind roared in his palms, and each palm struck the back of the sword, taking away most of the big man's offensive.
But the big man's knife was too fast, one knife after another, in an endless stream, not giving Zhao Wuji any chance to breathe.
The two of them had been going back and forth for more than thirty moves.
Zhao Wuji only vaguely had the upper hand but was never able to win.
His face became increasingly ugly.