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As the referee's ringing voice announced Chang'an Academy's victory, Chen Mu and the rest of the team looked calm as they methodically withdrew their martial souls, their movements carrying an effortless, flowing grace.
That was right—simply stopping and pulling back, yet there was a certain charm to it, revealing the composure and confidence of those who had weathered countless battles.
In truth, aside from Chen Mu briefly exchanging a few words with Chang Kuan on the stage, the other team members had not spoken from beginning to end.
They walked at an unhurried pace, slowly stepping down from the arena.
What they had just gone through was nothing more than an ordinary spar.
Not worth mentioning!
At that moment, however, the spectator stands had already erupted, bursting into thunderous cheers.
Especially those supporters who had deliberately bought Chang'an Academy's distinctive team uniforms and exquisite accessories today—they waved the flags and banners in their hands, shouting themselves hoarse.
Mixed into those cheers were some different voices as well.
Those who had bet on Chang'an Academy to win were joyfully thanking Chang'an Academy from the bottom of their hearts, because it had made them a fortune; while those who had bet wrong were cursing Changyu Academy in furious frustration.
After all, in the world of gambling, one side was heaven, and the other side was hell.
Even so, what rang out the most were the endless discussions.
People spoke one after another, enthusiastically exchanging their views on this match.
"Wasn't that way too fast? They settled the fight in one minute. That efficiency is insane!"
"Exactly. Their opponent was Changyu Academy, but Chang'an Academy beat them until they couldn't fight back at all."
"The youngest at home, Sang Biao out in the world! That phrase is