Lin Bai'ao stared, utterly dumbfounded, as Che Wenjun strode into the white boundary line clutching the massive Guandao. He felt as if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or perhaps the opponent’s mind had snapped.

The Totem lineage had conducted thorough research on this adversary; Lin Bai'ao had even attended Che Wenjun’s matches personally.

Their ultimate conclusion was that Che Wenjun possessed a rare, innate talent for hand-to-hand combat. Should he unleash his full skill with fists and feet, the resulting power would likely rival Lin Bai'ao’s own. If the match were decided purely by unarmed combat, victory would probably come down to a stroke of momentary luck.

However, in terms of weapon mastery, Che Wenjun was clearly a cut below. Furthermore, the weapon he had used in previous bouts was a gleaming longsword. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he now carried a terrifying, four-meter-long Guandao.

Licking his slightly dry lips, Lin Bai'ao asked in a low voice, "Senior Brother Che, is this your standard weapon?"

Che Wenjun laughed heartily. "Senior Brother Lin, whether this is my usual weapon hardly matters now, does it? Since I’ve brought it onto the stage, I intend to use it against you. I ask only that you show mercy, Senior Brother."

Though he projected an air of utter confidence, inwardly, Che Wenjun was riddled with anxiety.

The words Elder He had spoken upon their parting the previous night still echoed in his ears:

“Follow your instincts.”

But the problem was that this was the very first time he had ever wielded such a long weapon. Even though he had frantically crammed a few basic long-weapon techniques just before the match, how was he supposed to "follow his instincts"?

If it weren't for the near-blind faith he held in He Yiming—a conviction that every word He Yiming spoke must be absolutely correct—he never would have dared bring this behemoth onto the stage.

Lin Bai'ao’s expression shifted subtly. A sudden surge of anger boiled up within him. Looking at Che Wenjun’s physique, there was no way he looked like someone suited to wield such a massive weapon. Coupled with the fierce speed Che Wenjun displayed with his longsword previously, Lin Bai'ao was certain the sword was his true match.

To bring out this weapon in such a crucial match could only mean Che Wenjun was openly disrespecting him, treating him as insignificant.

At this thought, Lin Bai'ao’s face gradually turned ashen. He snorted angrily. "Very well, since Senior Brother Che insists, I shall respectfully comply."

He gestured, and a figure swiftly ran from the crowd, carrying a pair of enormous meteor hammers.

The two hammers were connected by an iron chain. Both hammers were colossal, each the size of several men’s heads, and immensely heavy, totaling over three hundred catties.

Che Wenjun had personally descended the platform to retrieve his Guandao, showing respect for the weapon.

Lin Bai'ao, however, had his weapon prepared in advance; with a wave, someone brought it to him.

To his surprise, the person delivering the weapons was not the junior disciple usually tasked with guarding his equipment, but one of his senior brothers. This senior brother’s cultivation in the Martial Path was no less than his own; he had simply been unlucky this time, drawing a stronger opponent and being eliminated.

“Be careful, Junior Brother,” the man whispered after handing the meteor hammers to Lin Bai'ao.

“Senior Brother, is something amiss?” Lin Bai'ao asked suspiciously.

“Someone has already identified that Guandao as He Yiming’s personal weapon. Be extremely cautious; do not show the slightest carelessness.” The man then immediately retreated.

Lin Bai'ao sucked in a sharp breath. Who today was unaware of He Yiming’s formidable reputation? If his personal weapon was now in this man’s hands, there must be a deep significance behind it.

The slight anger that had just flared in his heart instantly vanished. His gaze upon Che Wenjun was now filled with intense vigilance.

The Innate expert overseeing the match waved his hand. “Gentlemen, you may begin.”

At this moment, several other circles among the ten white lines had already commenced their duels. Yet, all eyes remained fixed upon this particular arena.

On and off the high platform, many recognized the Guandao’s origin. Hearing it was He Yiming’s weapon, even the Innate masters who usually disdained such competitions showed a flicker of heightened interest.

Zhou Datian’s face shifted between dark and light; he shared the same thought as many other experts.

Could a Houtian realm cultivator, one who had never used a long weapon before, truly unleash the might of the Guandao after suddenly acquiring it?

Under normal circumstances, it shouldn't increase Che Wenjun’s power; rather, it ought to become a hindrance.

However, seeing He Yiming smiling confidently off to the side, these men lost confidence first. He Yiming’s current power had reached a level where they found it easier to trust him than to trust their own judgment.

“Senior Brother Lin, please.”

“Senior Brother Che, please.”

The two exchanged courtesies. Che Wenjun immediately flipped his wrist, raising the great blade vertically before bringing it down in a crushing chop.

Lin Bai'ao felt a rush of annoyance. Che Wenjun was using such a casual technique; it was too insulting.

He snorted, raising both hammers high, seemingly intending to meet force with force, shatter the incoming blade momentum, and then press forward to seize the initiative.

The moment he struck out with the twin hammers, Lin Bai'ao had intended to use seven-tenths of his strength just to deflect the blade’s force. But then, his senior brother’s warning flashed in his mind: this Guandao belonged to He Yiming.

Chastened by those three breathtaking names, the internal energy surging through his hands grew fiercer; he accumulated a full ten layers of internal force.

Blade against hammers, under the gaze of everyone watching, met with a heavy collision.

Clang…

The resonant impact immediately echoed. The faces of the Innate experts on the high platform subtly changed. They could already perceive the terrifying degree of profound power contained within the great blade.

Simultaneously, Lin Bai'ao’s face instantly turned the color of congested liver.

The force transmitted through that single strike was unbelievably immense…

He knew the history of the Guandao, so he had never intended to meet it head-on; his goal was merely to safely dissipate the energy of that blow. But now, he realized the opponent’s power was overwhelming, and the subtlety with which he controlled his internal energy was far beyond Lin Bai'ao’s reach.

Under the control of that internal energy, his two hammerheads felt as if they were glued fast to the blade. Forget deflecting even a fraction of the force—he might not even be able to abandon the weapons and retreat.

In that mere instant of hesitation, he lost the final chance to disengage. He could only grip the heavy hammers tightly, enduring the incredible, overwhelming pressure radiating from the Guandao.

In truth, Lin Bai'ao’s ability to swing the three-hundred-plus-catty meteor hammers with unstoppable force already made him a rare specimen of natural strength among his generation of martial brothers. Despite the Guandao looking far more terrifying than his hammers, he possessed absolute confidence in overpowering Che Wenjun through sheer brute strength.

But the moment blade met hammer, he realized with a shock that he was profoundly, disastrously wrong.

That initial overhead chop didn't seem particularly fast or heavy, but only at the point of impact did the immense latent power fully manifest.

Lin Bai'ao condensed all his internal energy into a single point. Blood boiled in his veins as he desperately channeled internal force into the twin hammers held above his head. This wasn't reckless abandon, but rather an intense love for his own life. These hammers were guarding his skull; if the hammers were broken, the Guandao would cleave his head when it descended. Though supremely confident in his own strength, he never believed his skull was tougher than a renowned Northwestern divine weapon like the Guandao.

In an instant, his face contorted into a monstrous grimace. His eyes bulged like a fighting bull's, teeth clenched, resembling a demon. He poured out every ounce of strength he possessed—effort gained from eating, drinking, and even nursing—just to barely block Che Wenjun’s seemingly casual strike.

Che Wenjun was ecstatic internally. He had struck only to gauge the relative strength between them, but the result brought him soaring joy. The great blade wasn't that heavy, he hadn't channeled all his internal energy into it, and he hadn't expected this one blow to put his opponent in such dire straits. In fact, he hadn't been confident of winning at all…

Yet, looking at Lin Bai'ao now, he seemed to be bearing the weight of ten thousand pounds, appearing on the verge of collapse at any moment.

Suddenly, Che Wenjun was brimming with confidence. Aided by such a powerful weapon, he felt absolutely certain of securing not just a top-ten spot, but first place overall. His reverence for He Yiming deepened; truly, the most powerful Innate expert in history—even his weapons were phenomenal.

At the same time, a small seed of doubt sprouted: Was this Guandao really that heavy?

A few breaths later, everyone could see Lin Bai'ao’s legs beginning to tremble slightly. Sweat poured from him, soaking his entire outfit within moments. His face transitioned from flushed red to a ghastly white. Though his expression remained ferocious, his tongue was practically sticking out. The sounds escaping his mouth were no longer powerful shouts but ragged gasps, like an old ox pulling a broken cart. Any observer with discernment could tell he was utterly exhausted and on the verge of complete collapse.

The supervising Innate expert’s eyes flashed with horror. A flicker of avarice crossed his gaze as he looked at the Guandao, but it was instantly suppressed. Trying to steal from He Yiming? That was merely inviting an early death.

He regained his composure and waved his hand. “Stop! Che Wenjun wins.”

Che Wenjun paused, startled, but upon hearing the supervising Innate master’s declaration, he instinctively drew back the Guandao. When he exerted a slight upward pressure, the great blade obediently separated from the twin hammers.

Then, the onlookers watched as Lin Bai'ao’s arm muscles spasmed violently. He could no longer maintain his grip, and the meteor hammers clattered to the ground. Immediately after, he pitched forward and fell stiffly.

Che Wenjun glanced at the Guandao in his hand, then at the disciples of the Tu Fan sect rushing forward. A sense of bewilderment washed over him…

I… won?