Online Game: Me, with Unparalleled Comprehension

The system notification arrived as expected, and a faint aura of experience emanated from Wu Feng's body. After a moment, the aura dissipated.

He was teleported back to the training ground's rest area.

The training ground was deserted, with only a few players scattered around, some sitting cross-legged to meditate, and others looking down to check their status.

Wu Feng glanced around, found a quiet corner, and sat down cross-legged.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued to circulate the Nine Yang Divine Skill.

Meanwhile, the official live stream room outside was in complete chaos.

[Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! Two moves! Just two moves! And that NPC was dead!]

[That was a level 58 second-rate martial artist, wearing such thick armor, and he was actually killed with just two palm strikes?]

[What kind of palm technique is that, boss? It's incredibly powerful!]

[It's not that his palm technique is powerful, it's that the boss's own strength is terrifying. Didn't you see? His movements were as fast as a ghost; that NPC couldn't hit him at all!]

[That's speed overpowering! What's the use of a powerful hammer if it can't hit anyone?]

What I'm most curious about now is, what level is this expert at? Peak of the second tier? Or first tier?

[Definitely top-tier, right? Even a peak second-tier player couldn't so easily one-shot an NPC of the same level!]

[This is terrifying! These NPCs have ridiculously high defense. Regular players can't even break through their defenses after a long time, but pro players can take them down in just two hits...]

Looking forward to the next match! Let's see what kind of opponents the big shot will face!

The chat was filled with rapidly scrolling comments and lively discussions. Countless eyes were glued to the live stream, eagerly anticipating the start of the next match.

However, time passed second by second.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes.

Wu Feng sat cross-legged in the corner of the rest area, his eyes gently closed and his breathing steady.

He had already circulated the Nine Yang Divine Skill more than thirty times, and his proficiency had increased significantly, but the system notification still hadn't sounded.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the rankings in the upper left corner.

His name is steadily rising on the rankings.

The number of players in the training ground dwindled from the initial 256 to 64, and then to 32.

Now, only thirty-two finalists remain in the training ground.

He glanced around; the rest area was empty, with only a few players scattered around.

Some looked exhausted, some were wiping their weapons, and others occasionally looked up towards the arena with anticipation and tension in their eyes.

Wu Feng looked away and glanced at the time again.

Thirty-seven minutes have passed.

He frowned slightly, feeling somewhat speechless. He wondered if he had just gotten a bye, as he hadn't been matched with an opponent for so long.

But his ranking is still rising, which means the system hasn't forgotten about him; it's just that the matching speed is ridiculously slow.

He shook his head, closed his eyes again, and continued to circulate the Nine Yang Divine Skill.

Instead of waiting idly, it's better to practice.

A few minutes later, just as he was preparing to begin the next major cycle, a crisp system notification suddenly sounded in his ear:

[You have been assigned an opponent. Please prepare for battle.]

Wu Feng opened his eyes, a faint glint in them.

He stood up, stretched his neck, and his joints made a slight cracking sound.

The next second, a soft white light enveloped his body, and the scene before him distorted.

When his vision cleared again, he was already standing on the ring.

The arena was just like the previous one—spacious, flat, and surrounded by wooden railings wrapped with red ribbons.

Sunlight streamed down from above, casting a soft, warm glow on the tabletop.

On the opposite side, a white light simultaneously illuminated.

After the white light dissipated, a figure appeared at the other end of the arena.

He was a young man in his early twenties, dressed in a moon-white knight's robe, the fabric shimmering softly in the sunlight.

A long sword hung at his waist, its scabbard black with intricate cloud patterns, and a pale purple gemstone inlaid on the hilt, gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

That light was the unique luster of purple equipment.

Wu Feng narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze falling on the sword.

A purple-quality longsword—that's not something just anyone can get their hands on.

They're either hardcore gamers, big spenders, or both.

He raised his eyes and looked at the man's face.

With regular features and a hint of arrogance in his eyes, he was staring at him with scrutiny, curiosity, and a hint of eager fighting spirit.

Wang Gufeng, who was opposite him, was also sizing him up.

Seeing that he was still wearing that gray knight-errant customer service uniform, with a straw hat, his hands empty, he raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You must be the number one on the leaderboard," Wang Gufeng said, his voice carrying a hint of confidence and a touch of provocation. "Wang Gufeng of the Huashan Sect, please enlighten me."

As he spoke, he placed his right hand on the hilt of the sword and exerted a slight force, drawing the longsword three inches from its sheath, revealing a section of its blade gleaming coldly.

"Show me your weapon and let me see how powerful you are."

Wu Feng looked at him, a very faint smile curving his lips.

He didn't speak, but with a slight thought, he took out an iron sword from his backpack.

The sword was entirely grayish-black, with several rust marks on its blade. The hilt was made of ordinary wood and wrapped with rough strips of cloth.

Not to mention comparing it to that purple-quality longsword across the street, even the ones sold in the blacksmith's shop on the street are better than this one.

Wang Gufeng frowned even more as he looked at the sword. He snorted coldly, a hint of disdain in his eyes.

"this one?"

The moment he finished speaking, golden countdown numbers appeared in the center of the arena—10, 9, 8…

The countdown ticked away rapidly: 3, 2, 1—

The moment the last number disappeared, Wang Gufeng moved.

He pushed off with his feet, his figure flashing towards Wu Feng like a streak of light.

It was extremely fast, much faster than the previous players.

His movements were graceful and his steps were light, clearly indicating that he had worked hard on his lightness skills.

At the same time, he flipped his wrist, and the longsword was drawn from its sheath with a crisp clang.

The sword light was sharp and fierce, carrying a piercing whistle as it aimed directly at Wu Feng's chest.

The sword strike was swift and fierce, clearly indicating that he had practiced this sword technique countless times and was quite proficient in it.

Wu Feng stood still, motionless.

He merely raised his eyes slightly, his gaze calmly fixed on the approaching sword tip.

He finally moved when the sword tip was still half a foot away from his chest.

With a slight movement of his feet, he unleashed the Lingbo Weibu technique.

His figure was as light as a feather, and at the very moment the sword tip pierced through, he slid half a step to the side at just the right moment.

Wang Gufeng's sword missed its mark, and his expression changed.

Before he could react, Wu Feng's figure had already disappeared from his sight.

The next second, he felt a slight fluctuation in the air behind him.

His pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively tried to turn around, but it was too late.

Wu Feng had somehow circled behind him, and thrust out the iron sword in his right hand.

A faint layer of true energy adhered to the sword, a special true energy cultivated by merging with the world.

It is colorless and formless; if you don't pay close attention, you won't be able to detect it at all.

This sword strike was completely unadorned, just a basic thrust.

But it was fast. So fast that it left only a blur.

"puff--!"

The sword tip pierced Wang Gufeng's back and emerged from his chest.

The cold blade pierced through his body, drawing out a string of crimson blood droplets that splattered onto the wooden platform of the arena.

Wang Gufeng stood frozen in place. He looked down at the sword tip protruding from his chest, his eyes filled with disbelief and astonishment.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but only a few indistinct syllables came out:

"What...is it...?"

Before he finished speaking, his body turned into specks of white light and slowly dissipated into the air.

The purple-quality longsword fell onto the table with a clang, then vanished in a flash of white light.