Below the arena.
Lu Shaohua slammed heavily into the ground, the dull impact stirring up a cloud of dust.
He curled up, the front of his robes already stained crimson by the blood he had spat out. Fresh blood still clung to the corners of his mouth.
He slowly raised his head and stared blankly at the tall, gallant figure on the platform, his eyes filled with shock and bewilderment.
He had lost.
He had lost to a new disciple who had joined the sect barely a year ago.
That realization exploded in his mind like a thunderclap, leaving him dazed for a moment, as though everything were some absurd dream.
Third on the Hidden Dragon Ranking, one of Jintai Prefecture's finest young Heavenly Prodigies—all his past honors seemed to have become a joke in that instant.
Just then, several figures hurried over. They were disciples of Clear Void Peak.
They reached out to help Lu Shaohua up. "Senior Brother Lu, are you all right?"
Lu Shaohua raised a hand and gently pushed their hands away.
Bracing himself against the ground, he gritted his teeth and staggered to his feet. He still swayed slightly, but his back remained straight.
By now, he was slowly recovering from the shock and daze of his defeat. The bewilderment faded from his eyes, leaving only a trace of complicated emotion.
He looked up at the platform and met Yang Jing's gaze.
Those eyes were calm and open, without the slightest arrogance or contempt.
Lu Shaohua drew a deep breath and wiped the blood from his mouth. The churning blood and qi in his chest gradually settled.
Looking at Yang Jing on the platform, he declared, "A loss is a loss. You really are stronger than me. I hope you make it all the way!"