Both start in hell: but their talents are multiplied a hundredfold.

Before Shen Jue could finish speaking, white internal energy surged out of his body like a tsunami.

This extremely violent internal force overturned the entire sky.

The thousands of martial artists below the stage were suddenly struck by a white light, as if the sun had fallen to earth.

The white light illuminated the surface of the Qiantang River, the city walls of Lin'an, and every horrified face.

Shen Jue spread his arms wide.

Phantom Breath Technique: Gravity Manipulation.

The moment the gravity manipulation was combined with the white internal force, the ground beneath everyone's feet let out a mournful cry.

It wasn't a slight tremor, but a violent spasm of the entire earth.

The ground within a radius of several thousand feet seemed to be gripped by an invisible giant hand!

Gravel jumped and sand flew, and the stone slabs paving the training ground all around cracked!

The training ground, built by mobilizing martial artists in a short period of time, is crumbling!

"Earthquake?!" a martial artist screamed.

"No!" Hong Qigong pressed down on the gourd at his waist, his pupils shrinking sharply.

"The ground is shaking!"

"He's going to uproot the whole area!"

Nobody believed it.

Until they saw their feet lifting off the ground.

Thousands of martial arts practitioners, along with the nine-zhang-high martial arts arena, the surrounding area, and the distant forests, boulders, and streams.

A vast landmass, thousands of feet in circumference and of unknown thickness, is slowly rising.

Soil cascaded down from the edge, pouring down like a waterfall and crashing onto the river below, creating water columns several meters high.

Tree roots protrude from the fractured rock layers, carrying the scent of damp earth.

A stream was cut in half, and the water cascaded down the broken section to form a temporary waterfall, refracting a rainbow in the sunlight.

And all of this happened in the span of ten breaths.

There was no sound from below the training ground.

All the martial artists have forgotten how to breathe.

The Beggars' Sect disciples gaped in astonishment as Hong Qigong shakily took out his gourd and poured wine into it. The wine spilled from the tilted gourd, soaking his clothes, but he was completely unaware.

The Shaolin monks chanted Buddhist prayers in unison, but their voices trembled.

Master Xuancheng accidentally snapped the prayer beads in his hand, and the sandalwood beads clattered to the ground.

The nameless old monk, mingling in the crowd, raised his head, a deep look of surprise flashing in his eyes.

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen looked at each other in bewilderment.

For the first time, a look of bewilderment appeared on Qiu Chuji's usually stubborn face.

He had practiced swordsmanship for decades and prided himself on his excellent skills, but at this moment he couldn't even muster the thought of drawing his sword.

Yang Xiao's folding fan stopped in mid-air; he forgot to wave it.

Ding Chunqiu dropped his feather fan on the ground and forgot to pick it up.

The veins on the Blood Saber Ancestor's hand bulged as he gripped the blade, which hummed in its sheath.

Her lips trembled slightly beneath the blue phoenix veil.

Even Ye Gucheng and Ximen Chuixue, whose two swords were unparalleled in the world, changed color slightly at this moment.

Ye Gucheng frowned.

Ximen Chuixue finally lifted his eyelids.

He looked at the rising land, at the bare-chested figure above the training platform in the center of the land, and a faint, almost imperceptible fighting spirit flashed deep in his cold eyes.

This is the pure, instinctive reaction of a swordsman when he encounters power that transcends the realm of swordsmanship.

Chu Liuxiang's smile froze on his face.

He had seen many incredible things and many incredible people, but he had never seen anyone carry a piece of land thousands of feet in diameter up to the sky like a plate.

His well-maintained hands were no longer waving the fan, but instead gripping the fan ribs tightly.

Lu Xiaofeng's wine gourd slipped from his hand.

The gourd fell and hit the rising ground with a crisp crack.

The spilled liquor onto his faded old clothes, but he was oblivious. He just tilted his head back, eyes wide, and muttered, "Goodness, this isn't magic..."

His mustache seemed to be trembling.

But what truly sent chills down everyone's spines was yet to come.

The vast landmass did not rise shakily, but rather rose as smoothly as if it were being held up by the hands of a god.

Shen Jue's white internal energy coiled around the land like countless invisible dragons, and the gravity controlled by the Phantom Breath Technique lifted the weight of the entire landmass.

What terrifying control!

This is no longer martial arts; it's in the realm of fantasy!

The land rises higher and higher.

When that vast landmass, which carried thousands of martial artists, a nine-zhang-long (approximately 33 meters) martial arts arena, and countless trees and rocks, came to a steady stop a hundred meters in the air, everyone felt a profound sense of insignificance.

The clouds in the sky seemed within reach.

A river breeze blows, carrying the chill of the high altitude.

Shen Jue turned around and faced the thousands of pale-faced martial artists below the stage.

He was still shirtless, his long hair billowing behind him in the wind, and the silver patterns on his body shimmering eerily in the sunlight.

He smiled.

"That's more like it."

"Thousands of martial arts practitioners from all walks of life fought each other on the martial arts stage at the Heroes' Gathering."

"That's far too lowbrow."

"It's much more comfortable to talk like that."

Shen Jue's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly, as if he were whispering in everyone's ear.

"How many heroes are there in this world?"

"But who can rival them?"

Shen Jue spread her hands, her tone as relaxed as if she were chatting with an old friend.

Shen Jue glanced around at the thousands of martial artists and said, "Tsk, not a single martial artist from the Southern Song government has come."

"They were all martial artists from the Jianghu (江湖, the martial arts world)."

"It seems that these military men from the Imperial City Guard, the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and the Eastern Depot still harbor some illusions."

Shen Jue's gaze swept over every face in the audience.

Wherever his gaze swept, almost no one dared to meet his eyes.

Even Dugu Qiubai, the sword demon who had roamed the martial world for a hundred years without ever being defeated, slowly withdrew the sword energy swirling around him.

There was no fear in his eyes, but a rare solemnity.

Feng Qingyang remained seated on the ground, but his hands, which were resting on his knees, had somehow clenched into fists.

Shen Jue's gaze finally settled on the empty chair in the very center of the martial arts arena.

He moved with a graceful gait and slowly sat down.

The people behind him also followed, standing behind the chair.

The moment he sat down, the terrifying pressure that had enveloped the entire room vanished abruptly.

It was as if a huge boulder that had been pressing on everyone's heart had been removed.

A series of subtle sounds rang out simultaneously, as the martial artists exhaled in unison.

Shen Jue sat on the stage, resting his chin on his hand, lazily looking down at the crowd.

"Okay."

"Look at me, look at me."

"I have something to announce."

"I am the best in the world."

"I want to become the leader of the martial arts world and command all heroes under heaven."

"To go and rule the world again."

Shen Jue's voice carried a casual chuckle.

"Now I've finished speaking."

Shen Jue gazed at the assembled heroes below the stage with a smile in his eyes.

"Who agrees? Who disagrees?"

The audience was completely silent.

The wind howled.

Hundreds of meters above the ground, thousands of renowned martial arts masters stood quietly, like a group of mortals awaiting judgment.

Hong Qigong tilted his head back and gulped down the last mouthful of wine in the gourd. He wiped his mouth and suddenly chuckled.

"This old beggar has lived his whole life, and only today has he truly seen the world."

He carried the empty gourd and strode towards the martial arts stage.

"This gathering of heroes from all over the world"

"interesting."

As soon as Hong Qigong said this, the eyes of thousands of martial artists below the stage all turned to him.

The old beggar was dressed in patched clothes and reeked of alcohol, yet he had a calm expression, as if he were not standing on floating land a hundred meters above the ground, but under the crooked tree at the headquarters of the Beggars' Sect.

He tucked the empty gourd into his waistband and looked up at the shirtless young man on the stage.

"Shen Jue".

He didn't call him Young Hero Shen or Senior Shen; he just addressed him by his given name.

"Those two old guys behind you."

He gestured towards Huang Shang and Zhang Sanfeng with his lip.

"One is a grandmaster who has lived for hundreds of years, and the other is the founder of Wudang Mountain."

"They have their reasons for being willing to follow you."

Hong Qigong paused, then looked up at the edge of the floating landmass.

"What you just did can no longer be considered martial arts."

"What grandmaster, what Three Flowers Gathering at the Top, they're all a joke in front of you."

"Even if all the Grandmasters combined their powers, they could never do what you just did."

He turned back, his gaze intense.

"Your martial arts skills are so high that they've transcended mere martial arts."

Calling it magic is too weak.

"There are thousands of people here. Even if you tied them all up, you couldn't beat them with one hand."

"The old beggar agrees on that point."

"Anyone with a brain present would have to admit it."

The audience fell silent; no one objected.

Even Dugu Qiubai didn't say a word.

Hong Qigong glanced at Qiao Feng and Guo Jing beside Shen Jue and sighed softly.

"So when you say you're the best in the world, Old Beggar wholeheartedly agrees."

Hong Qigong suddenly changed the subject.

"But you want to become the leader of the martial arts world?"

He shook his head.

"That's not the same thing."

"The best in the world is earned through fighting."

"The title of Martial Arts Alliance Leader was earned through his own efforts."

Hong Qigong took a step forward, his voice suddenly rising several decibels.

"Shen Jue, your martial arts are unparalleled, and your methods are extraordinary."

"With a wave of his hand, he could lift dozens of feet off the ground. Such unfathomable skill left the old beggar utterly in awe."

"But you want to be the leader of the martial arts world."

"You need to make sure that the martial artists in the world are not just afraid of you."

"You have to make them obey you."

"You have to make them feel that they're following you not just because you have a big fist."

"It's because the world will be a better place with you."

After Hong Qigong finished speaking, he took out a crumpled wine bag from his waist, uncorked it, took a sip, and smacked his lips.

"The old beggar has finished speaking. Do as you please, kill me or torture me."

The air below the stage seemed to freeze.

Everyone was looking at Shen Jue.

Let's see how the young man sitting on the high chair, with one hand supporting his chin, responds to these words.

Some people secretly tightened their grip on their weapons.

Some people began to silently circulate their internal energy.

Many others thought: Although Hong Qigong's words were all reasonable, given his methods, he probably wouldn't listen.

Then they heard a laugh.

Shen Jue smiled.

It was a heartfelt, joyful laugh.

"Hahaha!!!"

Laughter rolled across the sky like thunder, shaking the sand and gravel on the floating land.

"good!"

Shen Jue slapped the armrest and stood up.

"What Hong Qigong said is well said."

"You're right. The best in the world is earned through fighting, and the leader of the martial arts alliance is made through action."

Shen Jue faced thousands of eyes below the stage, a smile playing on his lips.

Hong Qigong asked me, "Why should you follow me?"

"Just because I have the biggest fist? Just because I can lift the land into the sky?"

"No."

Shen Jue spread his arms wide and roared to the sky.

The whistling sound was clear and melodious, like a dragon roaring in the heavens, like a phoenix singing in the sky, soaring straight into the depths of the firmament.

The clouds within a radius of dozens of miles were shattered by this long roar!

The clear blue sky was revealed.

Before the whistling sound subsided, streaks of white appeared on the horizon.

The white spots are becoming more numerous and denser.

They converge from all directions, like rivers flowing into the sea.

Everyone in the audience instinctively looked up.

The distance was still too far for the martial artists to see the details clearly, but they could sense the aura emanating from those white dots.

Grandmaster.

They're all grandmasters!

One after another, the aura of a Grandmaster appeared in the sky, as if someone were lighting lamp after lamp on the dome.

The number of Grandmasters is increasing! Hundreds of figures even appeared on the horizon!

The white dot got closer and closer until it was finally visible.

They were a group of young people walking on air.

The men and women ranged in age from just over thirty to as young as fifteen or sixteen.

Beneath their feet was a staircase formed by Shen Jue's signature white internal energy, with white ripples spreading out from the soles of their feet with each step.

They were all dressed in coarse cloth short clothes, looking very simple.

And behind them.

Behind each person, a rope formed from white internal energy was used to drag a colossal object.

Those things were enveloped in white internal energy, and from a distance they looked like small mountains.

It wasn't until they were less than a hundred feet from the floating land that someone finally saw what those things were.

Jingguan (a mound of skulls).

A series of mounds of enemy heads.

The heads were densely packed together, piled up in a pyramid shape, with each Jingguan (a mound of skulls) reaching several meters in height.

Some of the heads were still wearing the felt hats of the Jin Dynasty cavalry, while others had the braids of Western Xia warriors.

The blood had long since congealed, turning black and purple, and was suspended in mid-air, enveloped by white internal energy, like a specimen sealed in amber.

On each of the mounds of Jingguan (a type of human pyramid), a tattered military flag was planted.

The black dragon flag of the Jin Dynasty.

The white eagle flag of the Western Xia Dynasty.

Hundreds of masters, dozens of mounds of corpses.

They converged on the floating land from all directions.

The first young master knelt down on one knee in mid-air, his knee striking the void with a crisp sound, and fine cracks appeared in the white internal energy condensed within his aura.

He knelt on one knee ten feet away from Shen Jue, bowed his head and clasped his hands in greeting.

"Brother Shen Jue!"

"We have been ordered to lead our troops to wipe out the foreign armies on the border of the Southern Song Dynasty!"

"The Jin army's western route force of 100,000 cavalrymen beheaded 80,000, and the remaining troops scattered for a hundred miles, not daring to look south!"

Another person knelt down on one knee.

"The 30,000 Iron Falcons of the Western Xia were completely annihilated outside the Helan Mountains!"

"The gates of the Western Xia capital are tightly shut; no one dares to leave!"

Another person.

"The Jin army of 70,000 men on the eastern route intercepted and annihilated them outside Dasanguan Pass! Their commander, Wanyan Chenheshang, has his head here!"

At the top of the mound of skulls he was dragging behind him, a huge head stood out. The helmet on that head was inlaid with gold and jade, a style that only members of the Jin Dynasty's royal family could wear.

One after another, they knelt down on one knee.

One person after another reported.

His voice was steady and his thoughts were clear, as if he were reporting something very ordinary.

Hundreds of grandmasters knelt in the void, with mountains of heads dragging behind them.

The scene was so breathtaking that the thousands of warriors on the floating land remained completely silent.

Chu Liuxiang's mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Yang Xiao's folding fan had been closed at some point, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.

Ding Chunqiu's face turned ashen. He prided himself on being a ruthless killer, but compared to what he saw before him, the number of people he had killed in his entire life was probably not even a fraction of what this man had killed in a single Jingguan (a mound of corpses).

Beneath the veil covering her face, Lan Fenghuang of the Five Poisons Sect let her Adam's apple bob.

Even Ye Gucheng and Ximen Chuixue scanned the Jingguan (a mound of corpses) one by one.

It's not about looking at those heads, but about looking at those young masters.

The aura emanating from those young people was not the heavy, weathered air of ordinary grandmasters who had endured decades of hardship and arduous training.

Their aura was clear, pure, and sharp, like newly sharpened swords.

These young people, each one of them, fought their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The power of a grandmaster can cover ten miles with a single strike.

The masters who practice the "Breathing Technique 2.0" are more than ten times stronger than the masters and martial artists in this martial arts world.

When dozens of masters practicing the "Breathing Technique 2.0" formed an array and launched an attack on the foreign armies stationed around the Southern Song Dynasty.

Even the grandmasters in those alien armies must be in despair, right?

Even if those alien grandmasters appeared on the battlefield, they would only be a speed bump for these grandmasters who followed the path of chivalry and justice.

Shen Jue slowly raised his hand.

The announcement in the void abruptly stopped.

Hundreds of masters stopped moving in unison, their breathing almost synchronized.

Shen Jue turned to the audience below the stage, her gaze falling on Hong Qigong.

"Hong Qigong".

"Isn't this scene absolutely beautiful?"

"You said you wanted them to obey me. You said you wanted them to feel that the world would be a better place if they followed me."

"And what about now?"