Over the past two years, he had perfected this self-created soul skill to the extreme. The phantom ice dragon had become more than twice as solid as it had been when he first entered the city; every detail of its scales, claws, and whiskers was clearly visible. Its power had risen accordingly. By his own estimate, the Profound Ice Dragon Soar he could unleash at full strength now rivaled a top-tier soul skill bestowed by a Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Ring.
Beyond that, his mastery of the sword had also been quietly advancing.
From the initial "Sword Follows the Heart," he had reached the point where, when fighting others, he barely needed to think deliberately. His body naturally made the most precise response.
Sometimes, when an opponent's weapon was only an inch from his throat, his sword had already struck later yet arrived first, piercing the other person's heart.
The feeling was impossible to explain, as though his body remembered every rhythm and trajectory it needed. At a single thought, his sword was already where it needed to be.
Finally, on the morning of the twenty-third day, the one-eyed fat man's voice carried out from the tower hall.
"9507, you're scheduled."
Bing Yekong was meditating with his eyes closed in a corner of the hall. Hearing this, he opened them.
The one-eyed fat man looked at him with a strange expression in his remaining eye. It was no longer the numb, routine look from before, but more like he was looking at someone making history.
He turned the ledger around and pushed it before Bing Yekong, pointing to a line of text.
"The hundredth match. Today. Nine participants, full roster. Opponent list."
Bing Yekong lowered his head to look.
A string of numbers followed that line, but even more conspicuous than the