When Fang Yun saw the divine artifacts collide, he recalled the rules of the Ancient Demon Training Ground and the arena. A strange light flashed in his eyes as he realized that, if he won, he had a ninety percent chance of obtaining that item.
I must get it! When the time comes, I'll make those Demon Kings and Barbarian Kings unable to live or die!
The halos around Fang Yun and the Elephant Demon General suddenly blazed with light. Then both vanished and appeared in the inner arena, ten li across, standing at its southern and northern ends respectively.
Fang Yun looked around. He could not see outside the arena, presumably to prevent spectators from advising the combatants.
"Die, Fang Yun! You aren't worthy of being the Demon King of us demon barbarians!" The Elephant Demon General charged with great strides, his four enormous feet pounding the ground with booming thuds. Blood energy surged all over him, and then he activated his Ancestral God Bloodline. Black smoke rose around him like a waterfall flowing backward, greatly increasing his strength. Killing ordinary Human Race Metropolitan Graduates would be as easy as chopping melons and slicing vegetables.
Fang Yun took out a brush and paper, dipped the brush into the ink of the Ink Maiden and the Inkstone Turtle, and began writing the Second Realm Edge-Concealing Poem, "Sword Chant."
A recluse slept with a treasured sword by his pillow; deep in the night, it hummed.
Men said the sword would become a dragon, and feared the winds and thunder it would bring.
Or else it raged against savage foes, yearning fiercely to march afar.
He took up wine and rose to pour it over the sword; a supreme treasure should move unseen.
Were there none who knew your worth? Your time