A Fluke?

Bu Fang continued to cut the piece of tofu. However, since his rhythm was interrupted, he had to spend a little time to prepare his mood again before he waved his knife.

The counter, which had stopped, began to change, jumping rapidly. Five thousand, five thousand five hundred, six thousand… At this point, the increment sat firmly at five hundred cuts.

As time went by and as Bu Fang's familiarity with the knife technique grew, the cuts he made with each slash slowly increased—from five hundred cuts per slash to six hundred, then to one thousand. It was incredibly fast!

The crowd's breathing quickened as Bu Fang's cuts per slash increased. Some rehearsed the slashes with their divine senses by following his movements, trying to imitate his knife technique. However, as they rehearsed, they felt their divine senses were torn apart, and they grunted as blood trickled down from their nose and mouth.