“How does this man have so many strange techniques?!”
The demon-clan man cursed furiously in his heart.
At that moment, Xu Ming switched to a two-handed grip on his sword and slashed down with full force.
The demon man raised his broadsword to block.
But the impact sent tremors up his arms, leaving them completely numb.
Normally, demon cultivators had greater physical strength and endurance than human cultivators.
Yet, in comparison, the human standing before him felt more like an ancient, untamed beast in its prime.
Xu Ming had already experienced its terrifying attacks firsthand—it was indeed formidable.
But this time, he remained utterly composed.
It was clear that ever since the qilin had emerged from the formation scroll, its strikes had been weakening.
After all, it wasn’t a real creature, just an illusion born from the array.
With a flick of his wrist, Xu Ming slashed at the qilin!
As his sword struck true, the qilin exploded into a mist of lightning, dissipating into the sky.
The demon man plummeted from the hundred-meter-high tree, crashing into the ground with such force that it left a massive crater.
Behind him, a deep sword scar marked the earth.
Struggling to his feet, he barely had time to react before Xu Ming was already charging toward the Northern Wastelands warrior.
Their weapons clashed—sword against spear.
Both were taken aback.
Xu Ming was astonished by the opponent’s intricate spear techniques.
Meanwhile, the Northern warrior marveled at Xu Ming’s mastery of the sword—his precision, his intent, his absolute control over every strike.
Both of them seized what they thought was a weak spot in the other’s defense.
Simultaneously, a spear thrust and a sword stab shot forward—only for their tips to collide dead-on.
Ripples of spiritual energy erupted outward, spreading through the air.
The impact sent a jolt through their hands, momentarily loosening their grips before they tightened them once more.
Both combatants retreated, standing on opposite treetops.
Xu Ming narrowed his eyes at his opponent—a man with refined features, almost scholarly in appearance, quite unlike the typical warriors of the Northern Wastelands.
But his strength was undeniable.
And they were at the same cultivation level.
Among all the opponents Xu Ming had faced in this realm, this man was undoubtedly the strongest.
For the first time, Xu Ming wasn’t entirely sure he could win.
“Could this man be… Yang Yang?” Xu Ming asked.
It wasn’t arrogance—he simply knew that very few among his generation could push him this far, let alone gain a slight upper hand.
Yang Yang gave a faint nod. “If I’m not mistaken, you must be Xu Ming?”
Xu Ming replied calmly, “That’s me. Didn’t expect someone like you to remember my name.”
Yang Yang gave a slight smile of appreciation. “You’re strong. Among all my peers, you are the strongest. No exceptions.”
Xu Ming chuckled. “To be acknowledged by the top of the Qingyun Ranking… what an honor.”
At that moment, he finally understood why so many people spoke of Yang Yang with awe, as if he were a once-in-a-generation prodigy.
Activating both the Dao Pattern Eye and Blood Qi Frenzy Mode, Xu Ming was barely able to fight Yang Yang to a standstill.
Yet, it was clear—his opponent still had trump cards he hadn’t revealed.
Xu Ming knew that his own achievements were largely due to the system he possessed. Without it, he would never have reached such heights.
Yang Yang had done it purely on talent.
People always said that Xu Ming was a monster.
But in Xu Ming’s eyes, this man was even more terrifying.
Though, honestly… he was a little too good-looking—so much so that he was more beautiful than most women.
If he were placed in a brothel, he’d undoubtedly be the most sought-after courtesan.
And to top it off, he was a Northern Wastelands native.
People in the Central Plains always referred to Northerners as barbarians.
Yet, aside from his clothing, Yang Yang was nothing like the so-called “barbarians” in Xu Ming’s mind.
“Is the Blood Bodhi’s main fruit really that important to you?” Yang Yang asked.
Xu Ming chuckled, finding the question pointless. “Is it not important to you?”
“Not particularly,” Yang Yang nodded. “I just happened to come across it and figured I might as well take it.”
Xu Ming gripped his sword tighter, silently accumulating his sword momentum.
“You’re very strong,” Yang Yang suddenly praised.
“Much appreciated,” Xu Ming replied evenly. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Yang Yang glanced around. More and more cultivators were eyeing them like wolves. “I’d love a proper fight with you, but if we continue, someone else might swoop in and steal the prize. So, how about this—if you can withstand my next spear strike, I won’t fight you for the fruit. Deal?”
Xu Ming made a please gesture. “Go ahead.”
Yang Yang nodded. Then, gripping his spear like a javelin, he readied his strike.
The spear intent radiating from him grew stronger and stronger.
Xu Ming was reminded of the senior he had encountered at Sanshi Peak.
But he had no doubt—Yang Yang’s future achievements would surpass even that elder’s.
When Yang Yang’s spear intent reached its peak, the very space around him trembled.
Then—he threw the spear.
The white spear transformed into a streak of light, piercing forward.
At the same moment, Xu Ming, who had long been prepared, unleashed his own sword intent at full force.
His Grass Script Sword Technique slashed forth—
accompanied by the divine thunder of the “Tenfold Lightning Heart Technique.”
Lightning crackled within his sword qi!
Xu Ming’s blade met the oncoming spear, sending waves of violent energy surging through the battlefield.
With a precise flick of his sword, Xu Ming redirected the spear—sending it hurtling into the ground right in front of the demon-clan warrior.
The impact created a gust of wind so powerful that it blew the demon warrior’s hair wildly around him.
Except for him and Shi Xin, everyone else on the mountaintop felt their legs give out and collapsed to the ground.
Yang Yang gazed calmly at Xu Ming.
Blood dripped from Xu Ming’s right hand, tracing down his sword before falling to the ground.
Yang Yang spoke lightly. Then, leaping from the tree, he walked over to the demon-clan warrior, retrieved his spear, and—without another word—strode down the mountain.