The Power Of Experience

Forcibly opening your meridians was not something anyone could do, in fact, no one in this city even knew of the existence of meridians. Meridians are the channels through which qi flows within the body, and typically, they are opened gradually through diligent cultivation and practice.

However, in this moment , Xin Ming chose to bypass the conventional methods and forcefully unlock dormant meridians, unleashing a surge of qi from his dantian that surged through his body with unprecedented intensity.

It was a technique fraught with danger, as the sudden influx of energy could easily overwhelm his body and lead to catastrophic consequences.

But Xin Ming has been using Qi for millenniums, honing his control over qi through years of rigorous discipline so it was like getting a lost limb back. He tapped into the depths of his body, channeling the raw power of his qi to break through the barriers that held his meridians closed.

The sensation was electrifying, each meridian opening like a floodgate, releasing pent-up energy that coursed through his veins with exhilarating force. By forcibly opening my meridians, Xin Ming was able utilize Qi that would have otherwise remained stagnant, granting him a surge in strength and agility, though he cannot properly use any Qi techniques due to his meager Qi, Xin Ming could at least enhance his other stats with it.

Swish!

Suddenly Lu Shan takes the initiative, dashes towards me, and tries to surprise Xin Ming with his speed. As Lu Shan unleashed his fist techniques, Xin Ming quickly blocks them. Even with his qi enhancement, each strike felt like being struck by a charging carriage. The sheer force behind his blows reverberated through his body, threatening to overwhelm him with its intensity.

The difference of a major realm is huge, Xin Ming's eyes cannot even follow his speed. But speed does not matter when the martial art he is using is so predictable, anticipating his movements with uncanny precision, Xin Ming started sidestepping each of his attacks with ease, my body weaving through the onslaught like a leaf in the wind.

Despite his blinding speed, Xin Ming's senses were enhanced with Qi and his honed reflexes allowed him to predict Lu Shan's every move before he even made it. With each dodge, he countered with swift and calculated strikes of his own, exploiting the gaps in Lu Shan's defenses with ruthless efficiency.

To the spectators, it seemed as though Xin Ming moved with a preternatural grace, effortlessly evading his onslaught while retaliating with measured precision. But in truth, it was the culmination of countless battles and lifetimes of experience that allowed him to outmaneuver even the most formidable opponents.

As Lu Shan's frustration mounted, his attacks grew more desperate and erratic, each one met with a deft dodge and a calculated counter. With each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that his speed alone would not be enough to overcome Xin Ming's tactical prowess and battle-hardened instincts.

With a frustrated scowl plastered across his face, Lu Shan sneered at me with contempt. "Is this all you're capable of, Xin Ming?" he jeered, his voice dripping with derision. "Dodging and skulking around like a frightened rat? I expected more from someone who dares to challenge me."

Ignoring Lu Shan's insults, Xin Ming seized the opportunity presented by his anger. With calculated precision, he feinted a strike to his left, drawing his attention away for just a moment. It was just the opening he needed.

In the blink of an eye, Xin Ming pivoted on his heel, unleashing a devastating roundhouse kick that arced through the air with lethal precision. The force of his blow crashed into Lu Shan's side with bone-jarring impact, sending him hurtling through the air like a ragdoll.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as they watched in awe, their eyes widening in disbelief at the sudden turn of events. Lu Shan's taunts fell silent as he crashed to the ground, his once-confident figure shattered in an instant.

As Lu Shan lay rag-dolled on the arena floor, his father, Patriarch Shan, watched with fury from the audience. His normally composed demeanor twisted into a mask of rage as he witnessed his son's humiliating defeat.

With a voice that echoed like thunder, Patriarch Shan rose from his seat, his eyes blazing with unbridled fury. He pointed a trembling finger in Xin Ming's direction, his words dripping with venomous intent.

"You dare humiliate my son, you wretched cur!" he roared, his voice reverberating throughout the arena. "I'll see you pay for this with your life!"

As Patriarch Shan's furious tirade threatened to escalate into violence, a calming presence intervened, preventing the situation from spiraling out of control. The patriarch of the Xia Family, renowned for his wisdom and authority, stepped forward with a commanding presence.

With a raised hand and a stern gaze, he addressed Patriarch Shan in a voice that brooked no argument. "Patriarch Shan, this is not the place nor the time for such displays of aggression. Let us maintain the dignity of this tournament and resolve our grievances in a more appropriate manner."

His words carried the weight of authority, quelling the rising tensions and restoring a semblance of order to the chaotic scene. Patriarch Shan, though still seething with anger, begrudgingly acquiesced to the Xia Family's will, not wanting to start a clan war, his gaze lingering on Xin Ming with smoldering resentment.

The attention was undesirable, and Xin Ming had made a lot of enemies today, but for the Mythril Grass, offending some patriarch from a third rate county was definitely worth it.

Amidst the lingering tension in the arena, the tournament official stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence like a clarion call. With a solemn nod to the assembled crowd, he announced the momentous conclusion to the fiercely contested competition.

"After a series of exhilarating battles and displays of martial prowess, it is my honor to declare the winner of this year's tournament... Xin Ming!"

In the shadow of Patriarch Shan's furious glare, the spectators remained eerily subdued, their silence contrasting to the jubilant cheers that typically accompanied such moments of victory.

As the tense silence lingered in the air like an oppressive fog, the moment of truth arrived. With measured steps, the tournament official approached me, the coveted prize cradled in his outstretched hands. The mythril grass, shimmering with an ethereal glow, seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, its significance not lost on those gathered in the arena.

Despite the palpable tension that permeated the air, Xin Ming accepted the mythril grass with a sense of quiet determination, his fingers curling around its delicate stems with reverence. As he held the mythril grass aloft, its radiant glow illuminated the arena, casting a warm and ethereal light that danced across the faces of the spectators. For a brief moment, the weight of their judgment seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of awe and wonder at the sight before them.

One hundred thousand year old Mythril Grass, in my hands.

With the mythril grass secured safely in my possession, Xin Ming quietly walked out of the arena, blended into the sea of spectators, his movements swift as he slipped away from the arena. Amidst the murmurs of the crowd and the lingering tension in the air, he became little more than a shadow, fading into obscurity as he made my leave.

Time to perfect my foundation.