Boom!
The thunderous roar struck like the sky itself had collapsed. Yun Jinghong dropped to his knees with a slap, spraying blood all over the ground! Then his eyes rolled back, and he passed out cold.
Elder Chen Haoyuan of the Qingwei Sect stood at the edge of the arena. His aged face flushed slightly. The red remnant talisman clenched in his hand had already exposed how he had intervened to save the situation just now. If not for that, Yun Jinghong would have been crushed into a bloody pulp.
A basin of mana fused from four times another person's Dao inheritance had been drained to the bottom in an instant. I panted heavily, feeling as though I could barely keep my eyelids open.
Pang Junru stood behind me with a dark expression, glaring fixedly at Chen Haoyuan. "Old thief Chen, don't tell me you're still planning to retaliate against this kid for winning?"
Chen Haoyuan did not answer. He walked straight toward Yun Jinghong and extended two fingers to test his breathing. Only after he sighed in relief did he reach for Yun Jinghong's knee. Bright blood seeped from his trouser leg, and he suddenly stiffened in shock. After examining him, a trace of killing intent appeared on his weathered face. "What powerful Dao arts. Jinghong's leg bones are broken, and even his meridians have been severed. Do you really think our Qingwei Sect is easy to bully?"
"He only crippled one leg—that counts as this brat having a lucky fate! He was inferior in skill but insisted on fighting to the bitter end. The fact that he wasn't killed already counts as mercy!" The old woman Pang Junru planted her hands on her hips, though she did not quite dare to curse so crudely anymore. The Qingwei Sect