The seemingly spectacular Grand Martial Arts Competition drew to a close with Chen Jue's ultimate victory.
For Chen Jue, attending the competition had been little more than going through the motions. He had barely gotten his fill throughout, leaving him with something of the loneliness of an unmatched master.
After all, Chen Jue's body had already broken through human limits. If he used his full strength, even if all two hundred-plus martial artists present came at him together, probably none could withstand his six-thousand-jin Single Whip.
Thus, whenever he sparred with others, Chen Jue deliberately held back, using either ten or twenty percent of his strength. Only against Li Xiang, a Transforming Strength grandmaster, had he used thirty percent.
Of course, the three days of competition had not been without gains. From the martial artists and soldiers present, Chen Jue had grasped quite a few spiritual imprints with distinctive individual qualities.
In this age of information warfare, even guns and artillery were gradually becoming outdated. High-tech warfare was now the focus; once missiles struck, all martial arts were useless.
Yet so many martial artists still persisted in passing down their traditions. They let Chen Jue see that the faint flame of the martial path, seemingly about to go out, was still giving off its final light.
But Chen Jue was not a pure martial artist like Li Xiang. He felt that, at most, he should count as a cultivator who knew martial arts.
After collecting the hundred-thousand-yuan winner's prize provided by the organizers, Chen Jue declined the invitation to serve as a specially appointed head instructor. Although the allowance offered was high, he wanted some peace and quiet.
Teaching at the XX Regiment just once had already left him feeling rather bothered, let alone becoming a head instructor.
From that