"Clever! Junior Brother Fang had already begun circulating his energy in secret before the match started, then seized the initiative with an explosive opening."
Seeing Fang Qianyuan gain the upper hand as soon as he stepped onto the arena, Ding Long clapped his hands and spoke excitedly.
Wei Wen remarked, "Circulating energy consumes spirit essence, though, and maintaining such a fierce assault must take quite a lot."
Ning Yuerong nodded. "It all depends on who can hold out longer."
"Ba Ming is responding well. At a time like this, he mustn't get impatient. His opponent may seem aggressive, but he's consuming plenty of energy too. Sooner or later, he'll expose an opening himself."
"The first drumbeat rouses the spirit, the second weakens it, and the third exhausts it. Since he's seized the initiative and there's no way to break through for now, it comes down to who can endure longer."
"He's expending far more than Ba Ming. Ba Ming may look battered, but he hasn't really suffered any damage to his core strength."
Like Wei Wen and the others, most of the disciples watching had come to the same conclusion.
But as the battle continued, everyone's expression changed.
Fang Qianyuan kept attacking relentlessly, periodically channeling spirit essence to shift his position, his movements swift and ghostlike. Ba Ming could still barely fend him off, his body covered in wounds and bloody marks.
Since this was a match between fellow disciples, lethal blows were out of the question, and Fang Qianyuan had yet to find an opportunity to strike his vital points. Still, these flesh wounds alone had already left him in a sorry state.
What Ba Ming found even harder to bear was the humiliation in his heart.
How could I... how could I lose to someone like you!
Ba Ming's eyes reddened as he roared inwardly.
Suddenly, during a gap between Fang Qianyuan's attacks, he abandoned his defensive stance and launched a fierce counterattack.
"Hm?" Rather than alarmed, Fang Qianyuan was delighted. "Finally losing your patience?"
He had already known that experts at Seven Turns would not be easy to handle. A higher cultivation level meant greater strength, speed, physique, spirit essence, and every other fundamental attribute. They were different opponents from the senior brothers and sisters at Five and Six Turns he had faced before.
He did not expect to defeat them quickly, either, so he used the superior endurance afforded by his powerful physique to wear them down.
But Ba Ming had lost his patience and risked a counterattack despite being at a disadvantage. Fang Qianyuan showed him no mercy.
He condensed his energy into Gang, forming sharp claws that suddenly raked toward Ba Ming's waist and abdomen.
But just then, a powerful, dense mass of gang essence manifested as though it were solid.
The phantom of a gold-and-blue shell bearing mysterious patterns blocked Fang Qianyuan's Claw Strike against Ba Ming with a strange, muffled sound.
"What?" Fang Qianyuan was startled. He felt as though his gang essence claws had struck a hard turtle shell and could penetrate no farther.
"It's the Mystic-Pattern Turtle's Spirit Turtle Inscribed Talisman!"
"How does he have something like that?"
Even some of those familiar with Ba Ming's abilities were startled.
In a flash, Ba Ming was already driving his fist forward with a savage grin. "Go down!"
Ordinary people had limited spirit essence and no time to regulate their breathing and circulate more energy. The instant their attack was blocked, an opening appeared.
Ba Ming seized that fleeting opportunity, fully displaying the strength of an elite disciple at Seven Turns.
Yet once again, amid the crowd's startled cries, Fang Qianyuan blurred into an afterimage and vanished into thin air.
Boom!
A tremendous sound like the strike of a heavy hammer rang out beneath the arena.
Fang Qianyuan had suddenly stamped his foot, pushing hard against the arena floor and launching his entire body like a cannonball.
But rather than retreating, he turned slightly to avoid the fist, then lowered his shoulder and slammed into the gang essence shell formed by the Spirit Turtle Inscribed Talisman.
Boom!
Another tremendous crash sounded almost simultaneously. Ba Ming flew straight out and landed heavily several yards away.
Everyone stared, dumbstruck. After a moment of silence, thunderous applause erupted.
"Out... out of bounds!"
Only then did the supervising disciple at the edge of the arena snap out of his daze and hurriedly announce the result.
"Fang Qianyuan wins!"
"I... I actually lost!"
Pale-faced, Ba Ming lay on the floor, his whole body aching and weak, as though it had fallen apart.
But far more crushing than that was the fact that he had actually lost.
He had actually lost to a new disciple who had joined the Inner Court less than half a year ago!
Seeing this, Ye Tianming snorted coldly, turned, and left without bothering with him.
"Senior Brother Ba, thank you for the match." Fang Qianyuan approached and offered a friendly hand to help Ba Ming up.
"Get lost. I don't need your fake kindness." Coming to his senses, Ba Ming hurriedly struggled to his feet on his own.
Fang Qianyuan froze briefly, but before he could make sense of it, Ba Ming had already skirted around him and walked away as though avoiding a plague god.
Fang Qianyuan barely knew him and naturally could not be bothered to concern himself further. He soon headed toward Wei Wen and the others.
"Congratulations, Junior Brother Fang! That was a beautiful victory."
"That's right. Now that you've beaten Ba Ming, plenty of people are saying you have combat strength at Seven Turns!"
"You're incredible! Your cultivation is only at Four Turns, yet you can already defeat an opponent at Seven Turns!"
As soon as Wei Wen and the others saw Fang Qianyuan, they gathered around him and offered delighted congratulations.
The others watched with envy and admiration as well.
This time, Fang Qianyuan had truly worked a miracle.
Whether or not he ultimately secured a place, he would certainly become an elite disciple whom the Training Institute would focus on nurturing. His future was bright.
"The new rankings are out!"
Not long afterward, someone cried out.
By this point in the Training Institute's selection trials, quite a few disciples had already recorded four losses and been eliminated immediately. Those who still had fewer than four losses were the candidates who might make the final list.
They were:
Fang Qianyuan, one hundred wins, zero losses.
Ye Tianming, one hundred wins, zero losses.
Wu Longjie, ninety-nine wins, one loss.
Kong Chongshan, ninety-nine wins, one loss.
Fan Yong, ninety-eight wins, two losses.
Lan Mei, ninety-eight wins, two losses.
Mu Longfan, ninety-seven wins, three losses.
Li Qingqing, ninety-seven wins, three losses.
"So the list of the eight best performers so far is out."
"Junior Brother Fang is actually tied with Ye Tianming for first!"
Wei Wen and the others stared, utterly dumbfounded.
They had already suspected that Fang Qianyuan ranked highly, but only when the results were actually posted did they realize how much he stood out, like a crane among chickens.
"Before we knew it, we reached the last few matches. Those among them who haven't fought each other will be paired up, and then they'll eliminate one another and settle the rankings."
"Everyone still has about six matches left. What will the final rankings look like?"
Amid everyone's discussions, Fang Qianyuan also glanced at the list.
But he paid it little attention and soon began silently circulating his energy again, cultivating on his own.
His physique possessed vitality far beyond that of ordinary people, and he could actually put it to use while walking, standing, sitting, or lying down.
By constantly circulating his energy, gathering it without releasing it, he honed his various skills and even stimulated the growth of his spirit essence.
Ordinary people grew exhausted if they cultivated too hard, limiting the results. He, however, had managed to improve almost every moment.
Compared with that, what did a momentary gain or loss amount to?