"Ah—!!!"
The Barak captain let out a shrill scream.
He tried to struggle, only to find the strength draining rapidly from his entire body.
Not much blood flowed from the wound.
Because that blood was being madly devoured by the black hand!
The arena was large, some distance from the stands.
Yet Han Yuchen heard it clearly.
It was a gurgling swallowing sound.
Like someone desperately thirsty drinking water.
It came from the arm of that "Divine Wind Number Three."
The Barak captain's body visibly shriveled, his ruddy complexion turning pale, then ashen.
"Stop! We surrender! We surrender!"
Below the stage, Barak Academy's team leader charged toward the arena like a madman.
The referee finally reacted as well.
This was no longer a match. This was murder!
"Godwind Academy! Stop attacking immediately!"
A Soul Sage-level referee descended from the sky, slamming his scepter heavily against the ground.
A powerful wave of Soul Power forcibly separated the two.
"Divine Wind Number Three" was blasted back several steps.
He did not fall.
Instead, like a beast whose meal had been interrupted, he let out a low growl from his throat.
He stared fiercely at the referee, his eyes filled with savage killing intent.
If the gap in strength had not been so great, he would have bitten the referee too.
"Bang."
The Barak captain collapsed to the ground, convulsed twice, and stopped moving.
Though he was not dead, he had lost a tremendous amount of weight, as if he had suffered a severe illness.
His life essence had been damaged.
Even if this injury could be healed, his career as a Soul Master was finished.
The entire venue fell silent.
Wind swept through the arena, carrying a bone-piercing chill.
No one cheered.
The victory had been too bloody, too bizarre. It made