Outside the fence.
Near the seventh arena.
Zhao Yuman watched Yang Jing defeat his opponent in three moves, her brows creasing almost imperceptibly.
"He's certainly hanging in there," she muttered.
Yang Jing was, after all, a Hidden Strength martial artist.
The examiners had deliberately kept the Hidden Strength martial artists apart, ensuring they faced mostly Bright Strength opponents in the early rounds. Winning was hardly remarkable.
In Zhao Yuman's eyes, Yang Jing probably ranked nowhere among Hidden Strength martial artists in terms of actual ability. Compared with Shen Lie, he was a long way behind.
Even so, watching Yang Jing advance so steadily left Zhao Yuman inexplicably irritated.
The stronger Yang Jing proved himself, the more it made her earlier choice look blind.
She even found herself harboring a conflicted hope that Yang Jing would stumble in the next round, preferably losing to Qian Feng or Chen Wu and leaving the arena battered and humiliated.
Only seeing Yang Jing brought low, miserable, and exposed as weak could prove more clearly how wise she had been to reject him.
"He'd better not run into Shen Lie," Zhao Yuman said, her tone conflicted.
She knew Shen Lie's temperament. He seemed composed, but in truth, he was intensely domineering.
If Yang Jing really faced Shen Lie, given Shen Lie's feelings for her, he would probably strike hard. Even if Yang Jing survived, he would lose a layer of skin.
It was not that she felt sorry for Yang Jing. She simply thought teaching him a lesson was enough; there was no need to take his life or sever his Martial Path.
Let Yang Jing slink away after being eliminated, and let her brother Zhao Feng and the rest of her family see that her judgment had been precise and her choice correct.
She