Spark Crimson Lotus fell to the ground.
The air rapidly expanded, and the shockwave spreading in all directions shook the birds and mosquitoes that had been unable to sleep to death.
Even the spectators enjoying the spectacle on the distant viewing platforms were rocked so hard they could barely stand.
If the stands had not been sturdy enough and equipped with numerous safety rails, someone would probably have already lost their footing and fallen.
As for the swordsmen directly facing the Crimson Lotus Sword Light, their minds were blank, yet they could only brace themselves and receive Zhang Guangmu's sword technique, Star Proliferation, which was like a natural disaster.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!...
Sword light ran rampant.
The sounds of spirit swords breaking rang out one after another.
The vast majority of the swordsmen vomited blood and were severely injured, losing consciousness on the spot.
Only a small number of them could barely remain standing.
A melancholic swordsman with long hair draped over his shoulders knelt on one knee, gripping his chipped spirit sword tightly with both hands. He spat blood, yet forced himself to raise his head and look toward the sky as he murmured, "The Mad Lord held back..."
His reputation in the martial world was identical to the name of his spirit sword: Sorrowful Sword. He was a wandering swordsman with a good reputation who often defended the weak against the strong and possessed quite a bit of the spirit of an ancient knight-errant.
Sorrowful Sword could tell that Zhang Guangmu was handling the situation with ease.
At the very least, Zhang Guangmu had not used his full strength against him.
Otherwise, he would probably already have been buried beneath the Crimson Lotus Sword Light.
A dozen or so meters northeast of Sorrowful Sword, Hans Dekson's spirit