Muffled bursts kept sounding inside Li Yu's body. Blood poured from his mouth, staining the section of the arena around him crimson.
The violent backlash of internal qi continued.
Li Yu convulsed violently as the agony of rupturing meridians swept through him. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he crashed to the ground, landing heavily in that glaring pool of blood.
His limbs lay limp, his breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible. His vitality had dwindled to its lowest ebb, like a guttering candle in the wind that might go out at any moment. Not a trace remained of the imposing bearing and arrogance he had displayed as the Vajra Order's Heavenly Prodigy.
Standing a short distance away, Yang Jing watched quietly and shook his head. He felt little of victory's wild exhilaration, only a faint regret.
He had hoped to use this encounter with Li Yu, a formidable opponent in the same realm, to thoroughly familiarize himself with the power of his two fused true arts, hone his fighting skills, and test his limits. He had never expected the duel to end like this.
Before he could truly defeat Li Yu head-on, his opponent's own madness and recklessness had reduced him to a grievously wounded, dying wreck. It was a sorry sight indeed.
Attempting a breakthrough on the martial path was a matter of the utmost importance, leaving no room for carelessness or wishful thinking.
Even with a martial artist's essence, qi, and spirit at their peak, every kind of Heavenly Treasure and supplementary pill prepared, and all precautions taken, the odds of failure remained extremely high.
Moreover, failure would leave substantial internal injuries that required months, or even years, of quiet recuperation.
Yet Li Yu had been so insanely arrogant that he had ignored his severe