Looking into the distance, fierce battles were raging on the other Tournament Platforms as well. Both sides displayed their strengths, neither yielding an inch. Battle cries rose everywhere, making for quite a spectacle!
Below the platforms, disciples had packed together in dense crowds to watch the excitement. Some shouted encouragement, while others acted like generals directing a campaign, telling the fighters how to attack and counter;
Some even went so far as to openly place bets on who would win each match...
Turning back to Yang Fanyuan, he was trapped in a tight encirclement-dozens of disciples surrounded him, unleashing wave after wave of ferocious attacks.
Fortunately, seven or eight disciples he knew had stepped forward to help him fight his enemies, sparing him from being reduced to utter disarray.
Yang Fanyuan wielded a spear as white as snow, moving it as naturally and smoothly as drifting clouds and flowing water, as though it had become part of his body.
Moreover, whenever he channeled his strength into a swing, faint fluctuations of incredibly dense spear intent radiated from the shaft, adding considerable might to the weapon's lethal power.
Faced with such terrifying attacks, none of his opponents dared meet him head-on lightly. Anyone careless enough to be struck immediately had a gruesome hole punched through their body.
Thus, Yang Fanyuan led his mere seven or eight companions forward with the unstoppable force of splitting bamboo, relentlessly pursuing enemies who were being driven back step by step.
In mere moments, they had eliminated nearly half their opponents. Victory seemed all but assured.
Coincidentally, on another Tournament Platform next door, Yang Fanzhou, Yang Fanyuan's cousin, displayed strength and skill that were no less impressive:
He likewise held a snow-white spear, his body radiating a powerful, heart-pounding aura. His exquisite spear techniques had