The charming widow of the Marquis's mansion: The stable boy carries the flag and raises the dra

Ye Niannu did not fight head-on. She moved lightly, sometimes dodging a blade of light by turning to the side, and sometimes raising her hand to gently deflect the direction of the opponent's attack with threads of mental energy.

The silk threads moved with lifelike agility in her palm, precisely cutting into the gaps in his power and disrupting his rhythm.

Her fighting style was more elegant than Wang Long's, yet it also carried the characteristic of refined mental control.

After several rounds of fierce attacks from her opponent failed, she found an opening and precisely swept a solid sword light across her opponent's defensive perimeter.

The cultivator in the cyan short-sleeved shirt looked down at his crumbling chest, shook his head with a wry smile, and gave Ye Niannu a thumbs up.

"sharp!"

His spiritual body quickly dissipated, turning into specks of light that disappeared into Ye Niannu's body.

Ye Niannu steadied herself, exhaled, and a satisfied smile appeared in her peach blossom eyes.

She turned around, winked at Wang Long in the audience, and gave him a "done" gesture.

The crowd erupted in discussion, with some skeptical individuals stepping forward to challenge the two, only to be defeated one by one.

In less than half an hour, the names of Wang Long and Ye Niannu had spread throughout the arena.

Those cultivators who had originally just come to watch the spectacle crowded around the arena.

"Those two from the Eastern Region just won again..."

"This girl is amazing too, even more agile than that guy from before."

"When did the Eastern Region produce two such prodigies?"

After winning several matches, Wang Long and Ye Niannu stopped playing.

If the fighting continues, either no one will dare to step up, or it will attract stronger challengers, such as those holy sons and daughters who don't usually show their skills.

When I stepped out of the arena, the light outside was still even and soft, as if there had never been a night in the spiritual realm.

The two walked side by side on the path paved with gray-white gravel, Ye Niannu's steps were a little lighter than when they came.

"My lord, I think the arena is indeed a good place. You can meet opponents with all kinds of different styles, which is much more effective than trying to figure things out on your own."

"Yes, that's true."

Wang Long nodded, his gaze falling on the gradually thinning forest ahead, lost in thought.

Participating in more battles is extremely beneficial, both in terms of gaining practical experience and improving one's mental strength!

Qian Yuanzong, the quiet room in the back mountain.

A faint, calming fragrance filled the air; it was a special soul-nourishing incense made by the sect, specifically for soothing disciples whose spirits had been wounded.

But at this moment, the atmosphere in this quiet room was completely opposite to the warmth outside the window.

Wang Qingyan sat back on the soft couch, her face as pale as paper, her forehead covered with a fine layer of cold sweat, her eyes, which usually held a hint of arrogance and criticalness, now drooped.

At this moment, however, it was slightly dissipated, revealing a lingering aftershock of spiritual energy that had not yet completely dissipated.

Her fingers gripped the brocade quilt by the bed, her knuckles turning white. Each breath she took was accompanied by a suppressed tremor, clearly indicating that the trauma of her spirit being forcibly disintegrated and sent away had not yet fully healed.

Not far from her, Zhao Heng sat on another couch, his posture slightly more composed than hers, but his pale face and slightly furrowed brows still betrayed his current state.

His fingers rested on his knees, and a faint glimmer of spiritual energy condensed in his palms as he attempted to repair the fine cracks in his spiritual energy through the circulation of his cultivation technique.

But each attempt was accompanied by an even more intense stinging pain surging up from the depths of his consciousness, forcing him to stop and readjust his breathing.

"Damn it..."

Zhao Heng cursed under his breath, his voice hoarse and filled with barely suppressed frustration.

Wang Qingyan glanced at him, her lips moved slightly as if she wanted to say something, but she found that she barely had the strength to speak.

At that moment, the door to the quiet room was pushed open, and a figure stepped in.

The man was about fifty years old, thin, with a square face and a neatly trimmed short beard.

He was wearing a dark blue robe with the dark gold mountain-shaped emblem of the Qian Yuan Sect embroidered on the hem.

He was Elder Liu, one of the elders of the Qian Yuan Sect, responsible for teaching the sect's holy sons and daughters.

When Elder Liu saw Wang Qingyan and Zhao Heng's appearance, his expression darkened considerably. He quickly walked to the soft couch, reached out and touched Wang Qingyan's wrist, his face becoming even more grave.

"The spiritual body was completely shattered?"

His voice was deep and cold.

"What methods did they use? How could you all be no match for them? Where are your protectors?"

Wang Qingyan forced herself to sit up straight, her voice weak but filled with suppressed grievance and resentment.

"They are...they are two cultivators from the Eastern Region."

"The Eastern Regions?"

Elder Liu's brows furrowed sharply, as if he had heard something utterly absurd.

"You mean the Eastern Region, outside the Central Region, the one with scarce spiritual energy and declining cultural heritage?"

Wang Qingyan bit her lip and nodded.

"They claimed to be the Holy Son and Holy Daughter of the Primordial Holy Palace... The man's name was Wang Long, and the woman's name was Ye Niannu. Even when Zhao Heng and I joined forces, we couldn't gain the slightest advantage over them."

Elder Liu's expression shifted several times, first astonished, then incredulous, and finally filled with obvious anger.

"In a place like the Eastern Region, there aren't even many decent lineages. In previous regional selections, all the holy sons and daughters of all the sects in the Eastern Region combined couldn't even make it past the first round. And now, they actually dare to bully my Qian Yuan Sect?"

Zhao Heng slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, raised his head to look at Elder Liu, his voice steady but carrying an undisguised weariness.

"Elder Liu, those two fought in a rather strange way, and their strength was extremely high. I've rarely seen such methods among my peers in the Central Region."

Elder Liu remained silent for a moment, then slowly paced back and forth, deep in thought.

A moment later, he stopped and his gaze fell on Zhao Heng.

"However, those are ultimately just minor tricks. The selection of the entire region is not a contest of spiritual realm or mental strength, but a real confrontation of realm and combat power. If they were really that strong, the Eastern Region would not have been at the bottom year after year in previous years."

Wang Qingyan bit her lip and said in a low voice, unwilling to give up.

"But they did win. My and Zhao Heng's spiritual bodies both collapsed, and we'll need to recuperate here for at least several days before we can re-enter the spiritual realm..."

Elder Liu glanced at her, his tone softening slightly, but with a hint of reprimand.

"If you lost, you lost. If you're not as skilled, then practice harder. What you just said, if it gets out, will only make people think that the Holy Son and Holy Daughter of the Qian Yuan Sect can't handle defeat. As for those two cultivators from the Eastern Region..."

He paused, his gaze darkening slightly.

"You should focus on restoring your spiritual strength first; there's no need to rush back to the Spirit Realm to seek revenge."

"The real battlefield will be the all-domain selection a year and a half from now, where cultivation level and realm will be the key to victory."

"The little skirmishes in the spirit realm are ultimately just appetizers."