Zhao Wuji wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His chest heaved violently, his eyes filled with unwillingness and frustration.
He was the mighty Immovable Bright King, a level 76 Soul Saint, yet he had been beaten down by a mere level 49 junior. It was simply the greatest humiliation!
Zhao Wuji slowly rose to his feet. The fluctuations of Soul Power around him surged violently before gradually settling.
Lin Fan still hovered in midair, his Six-Winged Seraph Martial Soul radiating dazzling light, like a deity descending upon the world.
Looking down at Zhao Wuji, he asked, "Immovable Bright King, do you still want to continue?"
Zhao Wuji clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking loudly.
If he activated his Martial Soul Avatar, he was confident he could reverse the situation in an instant. But if he did that, he would lose all face completely.
—Using his Martial Soul Avatar against a Soul Ancestor?
If word got out, how could Zhao Wuji ever hold his head up in the Soul Master world again?
But if he did not activate it and continued fighting, he would only embarrass himself further.
Lin Fan's speed, strength, and Soul Skill enhancements were all absurdly strange. If this dragged on, Zhao Wuji might not even gain the upper hand.
"Still fighting?" Lin Fan looked down from above as the wings of the Six-Winged Seraph scattered brilliant golden light. His tone was teasing. "Keep going, and your 'Immovable Bright King' title might have to become 'Immovable Sandbag.'"
"You—!" Zhao Wuji's eyes widened in fury, veins bulging on his forehead. Yet the words that reached his lips were forcibly swallowed back down.
Frustrating!
So fucking frustrating!
He suppressed the roiling blood and energy within him and looked at Lin Fan with a complicated expression.
A level