What was he saying? Taking on all opponents single-handedly, conveying the most domineering conviction in the mildest tone.
Countless eyes fell upon Qin Ming, all stunned by him.
To his adversaries, he was a madman. Though seated serenely beside a seven-string zither, radiating an ethereal grace, his arrogance and overbearing nature were truly off the charts.
How dared he speak such words?
On Yujing's side, many stared at him as well, momentarily dazed.
"This Qin Ming is so unyielding. Setting aside his strength, this sheer courage alone is matched by few."
"He... might really be Taiyi!"
Many of the younger crowd were deeply stirred by his words and actions. Some young women stared unblinkingly, their gazes glued to the battlefield.
Amid the noisy chatter, occasional murmurs could be heard noting that Qin Ming had mastered the silk book method completely on his own without any guide, causing the Cui family members to feel a sudden sting across their faces.
Bai Meng's immediate reaction was that Brother Ming simply refused to leave, gazing warmly at those gigantic beasts and shadowy abysses only because he wanted to farm battle merits.
Between the two factions, laws of order intertwined like a carpet woven from the pelts of higher exotic beasts, blanketing the night sky and radiating a soft luminescence.
Qin Ming waited quietly for a response. To prepare for the True Form Tribulation and secure that purest exotic metal saber, he had thrown caution to the wind, shamelessly digging his heels in.
In the totem faction, the elders remained deep and unfathomable, their expressions undisturbed. Among the young adults, many masked their emotions, yet their eyes grew increasingly fierce.
A radical faction among the totem seeds found it utterly intolerable: that mild-mannered, ethereal-looking madman was openly provoking their entire generation.
If they let him leave alive, even after decades or a century, their indignation would likely never settle.
"Everyone, did you hear that? How insanely arrogant is this fiend! He is trampling the dignity of all combatants in our totem system! If we do not slay him, how can we vent the fury in our hearts?"
"To let him bluster on such an occasion is tantamount to trampling upon our sacred altars! If we let him walk away, we are all guilty and unworthy of everything we have learned!"
Even the more reserved young adults who had kept their composure now exuded murderous intent. Indeed, they felt the man in the arena had to die—he could not be allowed to withdraw unscathed.
"Who is below the Fourth Heaven? In ordinary times, weren't you all wild god seeds claiming you could slay superior experts and look down upon other civilizations? Go smash him to pieces!"
The combatants of the totem faction were incensed, all feeling that if this could be tolerated, what could not?
A group of young experts stepped forward, accepting Qin Ming's terms and agreeing to continue the contest under "mutual consent."
Soon, five beings walked out: among them were a treant, a silver giant bear, a flame-form monster, and a pair of young human combatants, a man and a woman.
Bathed in totem radiance and wearing grim expressions, they strode forward with imposing auras, each enveloped in dense luminous mist.
Within their sacred glow, towering mountain ranges faintly materialized in the distance, blurry altars stood, and countless silhouettes of various tribes could even be seen.
Many people across the tribes and cities of the mortal earth held them in awe, worshipping and offering sacrifices to them.
In this system, every totem possessed its own territory.
The Night Mist World was vast and boundless, allowing for the birth of so many totems.
Only a Supreme Totem could span across territories, worshipped jointly by ten thousand races, with all lesser totems bowing before it.
"Everyone, please," Qin Ming said.
The five great experts advanced in unison, stepping forward with forceful strides. In an instant, it was as if five miniature worlds bore down on him, the faint mountain landscapes and sacrificial rites behind them growing clearer with every step.
All five totem seeds sneered cold contempt. The opponent had previously provoked them with reckless boasts, telling all challengers to come at once; they intended to take him at his word and crush him together.
Inwardly, they mocked: *You thought that by goading us into entering the arena, we would fight a petty duel of honor one-on-one? Young man, you flatter yourself!*
Behind them, the totem young adults approved wholeheartedly, faint sneers tugging at their lips. Let that madman act carefree—just swarm him and crush him into the dirt.
"Who does he think he is? A man like him should be scattered here and there, torn to pieces across the ground."
Qin Ming knew nothing of their inner melodrama; he simply wanted to harvest battle merits.
*Clang!*
A resonant note from the zither sliced through the night sky, instantly causing many to hold their breath. The murmurs died down as the crowd watched the battlefield in tense anticipation, waiting for the fierce clash.
The young man among the five struck first. Rugged and wild in appearance, draped in animal skins, he gripped a heavy serrated stone saber. Coiling muscles like sinuous horned dragons rippled across his bronzed arms as white blast waves erupted from his forward cleave.
It seemed less like a stone saber and more like a jagged stretch of rocky mountain ridge, immensely heavy, blasting apart the night mist and warping space with a deafening roar.
Qin Ming remained tranquil at heart. Seated cross-legged, he plucked the zither to meet his foe. With a resonant ring, a boundless beam of heavenly light shot from a string, smashing outward like a sky-shattering warhammer.
Ahead, the serrated saber trembled violently in the young man's grip, its roaring momentum halted dead in its tracks by a single note, blade light splashing in all directions.
On Yujing's side, many recognized that the divine light bursting from the quivering zither was the release of Chaos force, so formidable that it made the younger generation shudder.
The young man roared as the phantoms of mountains materialized behind him, ten thousand ravines taking shape, and a hazy sacrificial rite threatened to manifest in reality.
That was the source of his strength and the foundation of his Totem path. Resonating with him now, it mobilized every drop of power he could muster.
The serrated stone saber grew impossibly heavy, seemingly coming alive as it cleaved toward Qin Ming, transforming into a dragon-shaped mountain ridge that came crashing down.
This weapon possessed a storied provenance: forged from the essence of stone peaks and infused with the dragon qi of mountain ridges, it had been honed into a ferocious blade, now practically endowed with a spirit of its own.
Qin Ming stroked the strings. Swaths of Chaos force surged between his fingertips and the zither, clinging to the blade as if seizing a dragon and reining in a phoenix, tugging it away.
Amid a deep droning, the stone saber tore through the air, nearly flying into the sky.
People even heard a draconic roar as the jagged saber strained to break free of the young man's right grip, threatening to slip entirely beyond his control.
"Kill!"
The others could not stand idly by. The four remaining experts struck at once. The treant, bark encrusted across its body like dragon scales, whipped its right leg out with a thunderous crack, like a divine lash slamming forward, its explosive boom rocking the spirit fields of all who listened.
From the front of its right foot extended a thick root, sharp as a blade edge and pointed like a spearhead, thrusting straight toward Qin Ming's head.
The moment Qin Ming plucked the string, blinding brilliance flared out and struck the thick root, setting it ablaze before detonating it into splinters.
On the other side, the silver giant bear roared toward the heavens, a single paw larger than a mammoth. It stood as if in an ocean of blood, backed by endless corpses and bones, like a fiend bursting forth from hell.
This giant bear had once bathed an entire territory in blood: when several large tribes refused to worship it, it wiped them out in a single night, cultivating a bloody domain in the massacre's wake.
Carrying an overwhelming murderous aura, it swiped down at Qin Ming.
Qin Ming saw mountains of corpses and seas of blood, glimpsing the bear's past. His expression instantly darkened. Chaos force shot forth, accompanied by the roaring of dragons and the howling of tigers.
From the strings, the surging Hunyuan heavenly light took shape, becoming a Heavenly Dragon and a White Tiger, which pounced together to tear into the silver giant bear.
After a brief, violent clash, the silver bear's flesh tore open, spilling blood on the spot—this time its own blood flowing, not that of the extinct tribes.
Among the totem seeds, the flame-form monster and the young woman unleashed their fiercest attacks. One brought boundless divine flames, while the other moved like a celestial maiden scattering blossoms; swirling petals drifted across the air, revealed to be densely packed lotus-shaped blades.
With a colossal rumble, the divine fire surged and boiled, only to be scattered into disarray by a Vermilion Bird rising from the zither's song.
The shower of blossoms erupted and shattered, held at bay by a wash of streaming light. Chaos force clashed repeatedly with the lotus-shaped exotic treasures in deafening, metallic rings.
For a time, Qin Ming sat before his seven-string zither, keeping all five formidable experts at bay purely through the surging heavenly light he unleashed.
The totem camp's faces changed. This madman had truly not been bluffing; alone, he actually held off the five totem seeds they had dispatched!
The five experts felt utterly humiliated. Their opponent remained seated, playing a zither against them—a slight in itself—yet he actually succeeded in holding all five of them back.
"Kill!"
The five totem seeds bellowed, launching all-out assaults. They had to turn the tide, or they would have no face left under the scrutiny of the crowd.
Behind them, the sacrificial scenes grew increasingly lifelike.
Five miniature worlds pressed forward: in one, the earth ran red with blood and bones littered the ground; in another, an endless sea of fire raged to the horizon; in a third, countless mountains and ravines shook violently as blade light surged; in a fourth, a metallic lotus blossomed from an abyss...
Qin Ming plucked his zither. From the initial melodic chiming, gentle and melodious, it shifted to relentless, ringing clangs. Heavenly light crisscrossed the void in all directions.
Executing Chaos force to its pinnacle, he battered the five experts until their hair fell into disheveled disarray.
Wounds tore across their bodies, blood seeping out. Exchanging glances, they felt disbelief: had their opponent truly not stepped into the Fourth Realm?
Driven to desperation, they manifested their hazy sacrificial scenes into near reality. Countless tribes and innumerable savage races kowtowed and worshipped there, as though offering sacrifices to Heaven itself.
In an instant, dense clusters of runes and yellow paper sheets drifted down from an unknown realm through the void, pressing down to suppress Qin Ming.
Clang! Clang! Clang—
Qin Ming's fingers danced with ethereal dexterity. As they swept across the strings, vast amounts of Chaos force swept out like a shower of celestial comets crashing across the sky.
The sacrificial chants were cut short. All five experts coughed up mouthfuls of blood, some pierced through, staggering backward in disbelief.
They could not accept this. Just moments ago, they were claiming that letting this madman leave unscathed would make them all guilty.
Yet even when joining forces to besiege him, every single one of them had ended up wounded.
The giant bear roared to the heavens, planting itself atop its hazy altar.
The woman cried out softly, standing atop the lotus blossom in the abyss.
The young man stood before the altar of the dragon-shaped mountain ridge, slowly cleaving his saber downward with both hands amid the prayers of various tribes.
All five experts had mounted their hazy altars—a desperate stance that burned their future potential, staking everything on a bloody fight to the death.
Qin Ming remained serene. He plucked the strings, and in a flash, a Heavenly Dragon soared within the notes; a Roc spread its wings, spiraling to the heights; a Golden Crow charged howling amid boundless flames; and a Heavenly Phoenix underwent nirvana, soaring with the dual energies of life and death...
Many eyes widened. These were no simple shapes formed from heavenly light.
Certain legendary species were exceedingly difficult to materialize. If successfully manifested, they would inevitably carry a portion of their corresponding divine might.
Yet as Qin Ming plucked the strings, he condensed them one after another, until the entire seven-string zither exuded an intensely perilous aura.
In the next instant, the five experts were blasted off their altars, clashing and wrestling violently with the Heavenly Dragon, Golden-Winged Peng, Golden Crow, and the others.
They were actually suppressed, covered in blood, battered and gravely wounded by those legendary beasts.
"He has grasped their essence, not merely mimicked their forms."
Then Qin Ming plucked the zither again. Five strings suddenly shot out like light beams, piercing through all five experts and locking their bodies in place.
They realized their hearts had been shattered!
Weakness crept through their flesh. Looking down at their chests, even the flame-form creature panicked completely, gripped by boundless terror.
The five strings snapped back. The five experts stood frozen where they were as their hazy altars collapsed and the illusory projections faded away.
Qin Ming continued to pluck the strings. The tune was no longer shrill or clamorous, but gentle and slow, like a shimmering sea reflecting the constellations of the heavens, imparting a sense of peace and serenity.
Cracks spread crisscross across their bodies, oozing blood, and their spirits suffered devastating trauma.
At the final moment, all of them instinctively wanted to flee. What indignation, what slaying this fiend—none of that mattered anymore; only survival was real.
Yet as Qin Ming swept his hand forcefully across the ancient zither, a thunderous crash erupted—like stormy waves beating against the shore and piercing through crags—shattering the calm.
The starlit sea, so tranquil and peaceful moments ago, turned into a raging tsunami in the blink of an eye. Sword qi soared to the sky; every surge of the waves was a crest of sword light!
How could the five totem seeds withstand a boiling sea of swords like this?
In an instant, their physical bodies were shredded into pieces.
Amid the slaughter, Qin Ming waved his hand. The super wondrous blood within the silver giant bear, wreathed in silver glow and wafting rich medicinal aroma, was drawn over and sealed into a spiritual crystal of supreme purity.
In the totem faction, many watched with eyes spitting fire.
They felt that the people of Yujing used nearly identical, practiced techniques to harvest super wondrous blood, swift and efficient like seasoned workers restocking inventory—if not cast from the exact same mold, they were close enough. Every one of them was a demon!
"Not a single good person in Yujing!" a totem muttered through gritted teeth.
The consciousnesses of the five totem seeds emerged, attempting to flee via spirit wandering, only to be drowned by the sword qi erupting from the ocean.
"Aaaargh—!" Amid shrill screams, they hurtled toward destruction.
Before Qin Ming, the seven-string zither dimmed, and several strings snapped; clearly, casting such techniques took a massive toll.
At last, a dim shadow fled toward the edge of the battlefield in wild ecstasy—it was the treant's flame of consciousness, having managed to escape with great difficulty.
"Watch out!" someone warned.
Yet it was too late. A sheet of radiant paper, bearing musical symbols like Gong, Shang, Jue, Zhi, and Yu, drifted down upon it.
"You... didn't you say you were only inviting us to listen to a zither tune?!" the treant roared, struggling desperately.
Qin Ming replied, "Indeed. This is the tune's lingering resonance."
The paper shone brightly, a manifestation of the musical score. Its final melodious notes rang out, enveloping the treant's flame of consciousness and strangling it repeatedly.
Thus, the final totem seed was annihilated, body and soul alike.
The night breeze blew past as the faint notes of the zither slowly drifted away.
Spiritual light rippled. The lingering notes, the seven-string zither, and the score glowed, scattering into trickles that returned into Qin Ming's body.
He rose to his feet, ethereal and detached. Though his slaughter had been decisive and fierce, not a single drop of blood stained him. Untouched by mortal dust, he stood in the ring like a banished immortal.
"Magnificent! As expected of Qin Ming. Mastering Chaos force solely by himself, he cut down five future totems with a single tune."
"Slaying foes from a place of detachment, effortless and poetic, as if brushing away dust."
On Yujing's side, the younger generation erupted in excitement. Many watched the figure in the arena with fervent eyes.
Even several immortal body refiners began questioning their worldview, wondering whether they ought to consult the Newborn path, as the high degree of overlap between the two might offer valuable insights.
This was the first time Qin Ming had displayed such power before the crowd from the heavens, instantly making it impossible for many to look away.
"Lu Jingli of the Tianzun's Lu family hasn't really interacted with Qin Ming, has she?"
"Indeed. Look over there—the Huang family seems interested."
In the eyes of many, Qin Ming had begun to show his brilliance. Aside from his realm not being high enough, he lacked no other quality, his entire person shining brightly.
Naturally, this was also because those with active imaginations conflated him with Taiyi, steadily elevating his stature in their minds.
Some temporarily ignored the need for proof or truth, simply accepting the identity as fact for now.
Of course, not everyone looked upon him favorably. For instance, Grandmaster Xie Muze of Star Mountain had approached Qin Ming back in Sky City, only for their talks to stall and break down.
Overbearing by nature, he had once warned and threatened Qin Ming, stating flatly that an adult must bear responsibility for their choices, words, and deeds.
Now, his expression was icy, not uttering a single word.
In the heavens, Grandmaster Cheng Xian of another major power also frowned, muttering, "Back then, I blocked him from ascending to the heavens and disrupted his chance at a supreme inheritance. Was that for good or ill?"
In the past, he had descended to the mortal realm, painting landscapes in a mountain villa and spreading a rumor that nearly led to Meng Xinghai's death at the hands of the Three-Eyed Cult's deity—all with the true motive of targeting Qin Ming.
In the totem faction, the young adults looked thoroughly aggrieved, unable to stomach this insult. They had already been resentful and wanted to teach that madman a lesson.
And the result was... this?
Five totem seeds, completely fed to the slaughter like sitting ducks!
Certain warlike figures grew angrier the more they looked, stewing in rage. Glaring at that outstanding, transcendent figure, they felt as wretched as if forced to swallow rot.
A gigantic beast with three flood dragon heads spoke up: "His stamina is nearly spent. Even his zither has dimmed, and strings snapped at the end. Clearly, he is at the end of his rope! Who will seize the chance to go up and finish him off swiftly?"
Yet the totem seeds below the middle stage of the Fourth Realm remained dead silent. None responded. That slaughterer might look immortal and refined, but his methods were far too tyrannical!
At the thought of "slaughterer," and recalling words like "crude" and "unrefined," their hearts skipped a beat: did all this trouble originate right here?
They suspected that Qin Ming, having been mocked earlier for being unrefined, had deliberately shown off his skills by displaying two of the four arts—the zither and the written word—to sweep through his foes with sheer dominance!
Among the totem faction, indignant experts sent voice transmissions again and again, asking if anyone would step into the ring, but the youths who usually claimed they could slay superior foes remained utterly silent.
Qin Ming felt a twinge of regret. His time in the ring under this identity was nearly up, and he could no longer farm battle merits.
Looking at those cold glares and colossal figures shrouded in blood qi, he could only sigh. *All those battle merits... every one of them precious medicine and exotic metal.*
Still, being able to break through the rules and slay eight foes single-handedly was reasonably satisfying.
"Brother Ming can already kill Grandmasters, yet he still indulges in bullying the weak. Truly..." In the distance, Bai Meng shook his head secretly.
Sensing something, Qin Ming turned his head, seeming to see right through the younger brother's thoughts.
He was sorely tempted to say: *The joy of stomping noobs is something you still don't understand—mainly because your cultivation isn't high enough and you lack absolute dominance.*
Evidently, Qin Ming had come to appreciate Cao Qianqiu's mindset: using superior strength to bully the weak and sweep through all foes indeed invited universal hatred, yet it brought immense personal gratification.
Old Cao was indeed remarkably strong—he had once provoked several founding patriarchs into teaming up to eliminate him, which proved just how terrifying he was. He was genuinely loathed, completely mercurial and guided solely by whim; if anyone rubbed him the wrong way as he passed by, he would simply swat them dead with a single palm.
After sweeping through all his enemies, Qin Ming thought of Old Cao with a touch of sentiment, sighing inwardly: *A Cao Qianqiu dwells in everyone's heart, longing to look down upon the world.*
Seeing Qin Ming glance over, Bai Meng promptly waved his hand.
At the same time, he harbored doubts and confusion: how could Brother Ming conceal his true foundation before so many seniors without being detected?
He naturally had no way of knowing about the rag, which was a closely guarded secret.
In the past, during his decisive battle against Cui Chonghe in the Dayu imperial capital, Qin Ming had already verified the rag's concealing capabilities. Thus, when summoned by the Golden Board this time, he had not worried about revealing any flaws before the elders.
"I would like to play a game of Go with someone. Are there any fellow daoists who wish to enter the ring?" Qin Ming sat cross-legged, blatantly refusing to leave.
Before him, geomagnetic lines intertwined into a massive Go board, while his left and right hands held black and white stones respectively, poised to place a piece.
In the totem faction, the young adults were furious and choking with anger. Yet the youthful faces on their side grew more "steady" by the second—every one of them kept their mouths shut, and not a soul stepped up to fight.
When pressed too hard, a young totem seed even retorted, "If you're so capable, sever your own years, strip away your cultivation, and go up there yourself!"
Qin Ming offered, "If that won't do, how about a battle of the brush—we splash ink, paint a picture, and contest with arts?"
From the totem faction, the five-colored strange beast spoke with a dark countenance: "Leave the field immediately!"
Anyone could see Qin Ming's lingering reluctance to leave the battlefield.
It gave everyone a strange feeling: this was supposed to be a life-and-death clash where entering meant one might never return alive, yet he had cranked the bloody battlefield tension of dancing on death's brink to maximum, only to casually smooth it all over.
Standing calmly there, Qin Ming was like a gentle breeze soothing the tragic atmosphere of the battlefield, making people briefly forget the crimson blood and shattered bones.
"Do not test my patience, or I will break the rules, enter the ring, and slaughter you!" the five-colored strange beast threatened coldly.
Qin Ming stared at it intently, sorely tempted to say: *Don't be in a rush—I'll be back!*
The five-colored strange beast flowed with sacred radiance, its colossal body brimming with Grandmaster-level might.
Looking down, it said, "What are you looking at? Even if you cultivate for another twenty years, you still might not reach my presence. You are unworthy to stand beside me."
Qin Ming turned away nonchalantly, making a mental note to debate blades with it later, and strode toward the edge of the arena.
The Golden Board spoke: "The elders fight to the death to dominate the present era."
Clearly in high spirits, it looked toward Totem Sacred Mountain opposite and declared, "The younger generation fights for the future. Judging by your present showing, your future is bleak indeed. If you dare disrespect Yujing again, whether your supreme civilization can even endure in the future will be called into question."
With so many talents under its banner, it spoke with boundless confidence.
As Qin Ming left the arena and walked toward the perimeter, facing the crowd from Yujing, he instantly felt countless gazes tangible enough to touch. He was the center of all attention.
Even Great Grandmasters from factions like Thunder Marsh Palace, Zixiao Cave, and Heavenly God Ridge nodded toward him, their intentions of warmth and recruitment plainly obvious.
"You want to know if my master has an engagement or a Dao companion? You'd better go ask him yourselves," Su Moyin said, surrounded by people.
Among the crowd, Qin Ming spotted Tang Yushang. She remained as confident as ever, lifting her fair chin high, practically looking down her nose as if the one who had suffered a crushing defeat last time was Qin Ming rather than herself.
Tang Yushang projected aloof disdain from afar, eager to sever the embarrassing memory of her tearful weeping.
To this, Qin Ming merely offered a faint smile and slightly raised his foot, instantly sending Big Tang's emotions into orbit.
Totem Sacred Mountain spoke: "Enough! This exchange has lost its original purpose. For the final stage, let us engage in the ultimate battles!"
Consecutive defeats had cost it all patience and stirred a hint of unease. In the depths of the Night Mist World, pairs of crimson eyes opened, gleaming with chilling malice. The Totem civilization had originally sought a seat at the high table, but now it feared becoming prey instead.
Chapter 539