Cui Yu fell beside the desk, sprawled on the floor, disbelief in his eyes.
That kick had contained the full force of his sixteen years of cultivation. It should have been earth-shattering.
Ordinary people simply could not withstand such a blow.
Cui Yu believed that the force behind that kick was absolutely comparable to Jiang Ning at his peak.
Once, Jiang Ning had kicked an enemy flying. Today, Cui Yu had taken down Pang Jiao with one kick. What a mighty warrior.
And yet, why had the kick he had placed such high hopes on produced such an absurd result?
Heartless. Too heartless.
The faith in Cui Yu's heart was nearly shattered. His gaze dimmed, and under such a tremendous blow, he actually forgot to get back up.
Everyone stared at Cui Yu.
The entire class fell silent.
Then the students looked at Pang Jiao again, as if they were meeting her for the first time.
Even Song Sheng's eyelids twitched. Though he had never thought much of Cui Yu, that kick had carried real momentum, striking with savage determination, wildness, and arrogance.
Yet Pang Jiao had neutralized it with ease.
Even Song Sheng had never seen such a bizarre person.
Unlike the Class 8 students who had been there from start to finish, Song Sheng had spent several months in the hospital and knew little about what had happened in Class 8. He merely thought Pang Jiao looked disgusting and had no idea how capable she was in a fight.
Now, it seemed Pang Jiao might rank among Class 8's strongest fighters.
She had even mastered the art of waiting for motion with stillness.
As everyone marveled, Miao Zhe stood against the wall in the southern corner of the back row, looking over.
His gaze passed over the crowd