Atop Mount Wu's Main Peak, the Drill Ground Command Platform stood majestically.
The vast drill ground had been deftly divided by restrictions into ten separate combat rings, where spiritual power surged and shouts shook the heavens.
Five years of arduous cultivation, all to display their edge today.
The All-Army Martial Competition had begun.
This tournament opened with individual matches.
Apart from the lofty Nascent Soul True Lords, the army supervisors, and the instructors, all other cultivators could sign up.
Within the Gou Wu Whale Army, a single army contingent gathered three hundred thousand cultivators, including over ten thousand Foundation Establishment cultivators and several hundred Golden Core cultivators.
Of the nearly one hundred Golden Core cultivators put forward this time, almost all were at the late Golden Core stage, with the occasional middle Golden Core stage cultivator among them.
Standing among them, Qing Chen was not particularly conspicuous.
The individual competition had a somewhat unusual format: in the first few rounds, the strong were paired against the weak.
Those with relatively weaker cultivation would invariably be matched against relatively stronger opponents.
For instance, if a cultivator was at the middle Golden Core stage, his opponent would inevitably be a pseudo-Nascent Soul cultivator who had finished tempering the power of heaven and earth and reached his limit.
Still wearing the Dragon Robe in Battle Armor and holding the Pojun Battle Halberd, Qing Chen stood slightly to the left in combat ring seven.
The blood marks on the halberd's tip were dark and subdued. Counted carefully, there were already seventeen.
Ten alone would put it at the level of a mid-grade magic treasure.
His gaze was calm as he quietly awaited his opponent.
Suddenly, the air turned bone-chillingly cold, and a nauseating stench of rotting corpses spread through the combat ring.
A figure