That was an exceptionally clean, decisive one-punch KO!
The whole process could be simply described as: the opponent charged forward, Ling Wuyuan threw a punch, and the opponent fell—three simple, easy-to-understand steps.
There had not been a single unnecessary move.
At least, in Ling Wuyuan's eyes, the entire matter could be simplified like that.
But to the various spectators,
it could only be described as terrifying beyond measure.
It needed to be slowed down countless times and observed over and over.
Because it had been too perfect.
Perfect speed.
Perfect angle.
Perfect timing.
Everything had been perfect to the extreme.
Once all those factors came together,
the final result
naturally became the opponent collapsing on the spot.
It had even
looked very much like Ling Wuyuan had casually thrown a punch, while the opponent had resolutely chosen to ram his greatest opening into it, thereby voluntarily eliminating himself on the spot.
He had committed suicide.
Perhaps that was one way to describe it.
But everyone knew that was completely impossible.
So there was only one truth: from beginning to end, the opponent had been toyed with like a puppet by Ling Wuyuan.
The opponent's defeat could only be described as too horrible to behold...
All of the opponent's techniques, all of his defenses, all of his thoughts...
Before absolute strength,
they had all been utterly meaningless.
In short,
the more miserably the opponent lost, the more unfathomable Ling Wuyuan seemed in everyone's eyes.
And everyone was absolutely certain
that Ling Wuyuan truly had not used any true essence from beginning to end. He had merely thrown a punch.
"Are there any other opponents?"
This was
the first thing Ling Wuyuan said after sending his target back to the respawn point.
Yet his question
did not receive an immediate answer.