Online Game: Me, with Unparalleled Comprehension

[Competition Rules: Defeat your opponent to advance. During the finals, death will not be penalized but will be considered a loss, and you will be teleported out of the arena.]

The moment the notification sound ended, a soft white light emanated from Wu Feng's body.

The scene before him distorted for a moment, and when his vision cleared again, he was standing on a fighting ring.

The arena was large, with a flat surface, and red ribbons were wrapped around the wooden railings.

The sunlight shone down from above, giving the tabletop a faint warmth.

At the same time, a white light appeared on the opposite side.

After the light faded, a burly military general stood there.

He wore a set of dark silver armor, the plates layered upon each other, gleaming with a cold metallic luster in the sunlight.

He wore a standard battle helmet, revealing only a angular face with thick eyebrows, fierce eyes, and a hard jawline.

He held a long sword in both hands. The sword was broad, the blade was gleaming, and the back of the blade was thick. It was clearly a weapon of war.

A line of text floated above his head: [Zhou Hu (Level 63, Second-rate Martial Artist)].

The military officer was also sizing up Wu Feng. Seeing that he was dressed in a gray military uniform, wearing a bamboo hat, and with his hands empty, the officer frowned slightly.

He gripped the knife in his right hand, the tip touching the ground, and clasped his left fist, saying in a deep voice, "Zhou Hu, please enlighten me!"

His voice was loud and clear, resonating throughout the ring.

Wu Feng looked at him, raised his hands, clasped them together, and returned the greeting: "Wu Changfeng."

The moment the two finished their greetings, a golden countdown appeared in the center of the arena—10, 9, 8…

The countdown was ticking away rapidly.

Zhou Hu stared at Wu Feng, and seeing that he still showed no intention of taking out his weapon, his brows furrowed even more.

He said in a deep voice, "Draw your weapon. I do not kill nameless nobodies."

Wu Feng glanced at him but didn't say anything.

With a slight thought, he took out the Po Jun Mo Dao from his backpack.

The blade was dark and nearly five feet long, with a dark, cold gleam in its edge.

He held the knife in his right hand with the blade pointing diagonally at the ground, the movement as casual as if he were carrying a wooden stick.

Zhou Hu's gaze fell on the longsword, and his pupils contracted slightly.

That knife looked heavy, at least seventy or eighty pounds, but this man held it with one hand as steadily as if he were holding a wooden stick.

The moment the countdown reached "1", Zhou Hu moved.

He stomped forward with his right foot, the wooden platform beneath his feet making a dull thud, and charged towards Wu Feng like a cannonball.

He swung his long sword, the blade drawing a bright arc in the air, and slashed down fiercely towards Wu Feng's head—a powerful strike that splits Mount Hua.

The wind howled, and the sharp, oppressive aura could be felt even from two zhang away.

Wu Feng stood still, motionless.

He finally moved when the blade was still three feet away from his head.

With a slight movement of her feet, she unleashed the Lingbo Weibu technique, her figure as light as a feather, and just as the blade fell, she slid half a step to the side at the perfect moment.

The long sword whistled past his shoulder and slammed heavily onto the wooden platform of the arena.

"Bang—!"

With a loud crash, a deep crack appeared on the tabletop, splinters flew everywhere, and the crack spread outwards like a spider web.

The entire arena shook slightly.

Zhou Hu's strike missed its mark, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

Before he could sheathe his sword and change his stance, Wu Feng's figure had already vanished 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 swung his right hand out with a flat, sweeping longsword.

The blade traced a dark arc in the air, heading straight for Zhou Hu's neck.

No fancy moves, no pauses, just the simplest sweeping strike.

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

"puff--!"

The dull thud of a knife blade cutting into flesh.

Zhou Hu froze on the spot. His eyes widened, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he only managed to utter a few indistinct syllables.

A deep, bone-revealing wound opened on his neck, and blood gushed out, splattering onto the wooden platform of the arena, spreading out in a large dark red patch.

The next second, his body turned into specks of white light and slowly dissipated into the air.

The long sword fell onto the table with a clang and then vanished in a flash of white light.

Wu Feng sheathed his sword, stood still, and looked calmly at the empty arena in front of him.

[Victory in this battle grants 500000 experience points.]

A system notification sounded, and a golden aura of experience enveloped his body.

After the halo dissipated, his character level jumped from 50 to 51.

He glanced at the level panel and a slight twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.

This 500,000 experience points are equivalent to several preliminary tests.

The next second, a soft white light enveloped him again, and he was teleported back to the training ground's rest area.

The training ground was quiet. On the eight arenas, fighting was still going on in seven of them, with the sounds of clashing weapons, shouts, and muffled thuds faintly audible.

He was the only one standing in the rest area, surrounded by emptiness.

He turned his head to look at the arenas.

On the central arena, an NPC wielding double whips is locked in combat with a player holding a longsword.

The player was agile and skilled with his sword, but his double whips were powerful and heavy, each strike accompanied by a whooshing sound, forcing him to retreat repeatedly.

On the nearby arena, an NPC wielding a spear is facing off against a player wielding a broadsword.

The two fought fiercely, exchanging blows with guns and knives, but neither could gain the upper hand.

Beyond that arena, an unarmed NPC is engaged in close combat with a player who is using punches.

The two exchanged blows, making loud thuds, until the veins on their foreheads bulged.

Wu Feng looked at it for a while, then shook his head.

Players follow the path of the martial arts world, exhibiting agile movements and versatile skills.

Those military generals followed the path of the battlefield, emphasizing brute force to overcome all techniques, with each move powerful and heavy, not seeking fancy moves, but only aiming to kill the enemy.

The two paths are clearly different.

The armor worn by those generals was thick, and ordinary weapons could only leave a white mark when they struck it.

To win, players either need powerful enough weapons to penetrate armor or strong enough internal energy to injure their opponents.

But which player who makes it to the finals isn't incredibly skilled? Yet, they still struggle against these heavily armored generals.

Judging from this situation, there probably aren't many players who will be able to win.

He withdrew his gaze, walked to the edge of the rest area, and sat cross-legged on the bluestone slab.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then slowly exhale. The Nine Yang True Qi in your dantian begins to circulate slowly.

Since we have to wait, we might as well practice.

Meanwhile, in the official live stream room outside, the chat was completely in an uproar.

"Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! That was so cool! A clean, swift, and decisive backhand strike that killed him instantly!"

"A true master is a master! This NPC is utterly no match for him. Look at the other players on the arena, how hard they're fighting! The difference in skill is obvious!"

"That Mo Dao is too powerful! It cut through the NPC's armor in one strike. The attack power is outrageous. I wonder what quality weapon it is!"

"I now seriously suspect that the boss's strength has reached the peak of the first-rate level, otherwise how could he so easily kill a second-rate general!"

The barrage of comments scrolled rapidly, densely packed, almost completely obscuring the screen.

Meanwhile, inside the heavily guarded meeting room.

A group of people were staring intently at Wu Feng's battle scene on the screen, all of them stunned, their faces full of disbelief.

"So decisive, so swift!" A middle-aged man in military uniform spoke first, his tone full of amazement. "The proficiency of this knife technique is in no way inferior to his previous swordsmanship and palm techniques. Just who is this guy? How can he be proficient in so many martial arts?"

Another researcher in a white coat frowned, his eyes fixed on the screen showing Wu Feng wielding a sword with one hand. He said in a puzzled tone, "And he can actually use a Mo Dao with one hand. This Mo Dao weighs at least several tens of kilograms. Just how strong is he? His attribute values ​​have probably exceeded our expectations."

"Yes," someone next to him chimed in, "a second-rate martial artist, wearing heavy armor, was instantly killed by him with a single strike. His attack power and speed are simply beyond the capabilities of an ordinary first-rate martial artist."

A group of people frowned and whispered among themselves, their faces full of doubt and amazement. They were increasingly curious about Wu Feng's strength, and also increasingly wary of him.

Meanwhile, in the game, Wu Feng was standing still when he suddenly felt a sharp gaze fall on him.