While Yi Yun waited on the arena, the audience in the stands of the Demon Blood Plain had already swelled to seven or eight hundred thousand. With so many martial artists gathered together, their combined vitality surged like an endless, billowing sea.
Naturally, the betting pool for the next battle was also in full swing.
The Demon Blood Plain had already announced the demon beast fighting in the third match—the Mirage Dragon!
The Demon Blood Plain possessed a black Mirage Dragon. This was no secret. It was the arena's treasured trump card, and under normal circumstances, it might not fight even once in ten years.
The Black Mirage Dragon was highly intelligent. If it had not been captured by King Luo back then, it would never have appeared in an arena like this.
This time, because of Yi Yun, the Black Mirage Dragon was making its move. A Quasi-Emperor level demon beast naturally drove the audience into a frenzy.
The Black Mirage Dragon's reputation was illustrious. A thousand years ago, it had swallowed a Quasi-God King level powerhouse alive in the Demon Blood Plain. That powerhouse had come from the Ghost Race.
People placed their bets one after another. On one side was Yi Yun, who had won two matches in a row with ease; on the other was the terrifying Black Mirage Dragon!
As members of the Demon Race, most of the audience bet on the Black Mirage Dragon.
The few human spectators, meanwhile, bet on Yi Yun.
This was only natural. If this had happened on Earth, when China was invaded by the West, and a Chinese martial artist faced a foreigner in an arena match, more people would have bet on their own country as well.
The Demon Race's martial artists had already been stifled to death.