Seeing that the situation was about to spiral out of control, Zhao Hongxiu and Zhang Bailang, two Seventh-Grade martial artists, leaped between the two sides.
Each held one side back, barely preventing them from coming to blows.
But the tension still hung thick in the air.
"Zhang Meng, can't you take a loss?!"
Lin Xiong pointed at Zhang Meng, who was shielded by the crowd, his voice edged with madness.
Li Beichen drew a small Meteorite Iron Sword and pointed it at Lin Xiong.
"You resort to such low-down tricks, and you still dare call that a victory?!"
"You're asking for death!"
Lin Xiong flew into a rage, but just then, the purplish hue on his face suddenly faded.
He collapsed with a crash.
Thunderbolt Martial Hall instantly descended into chaos.
The standoff that had been underway ended without resolution.
Li Beichen helped Zhang Meng along.
The group cursed Lin Xiong the whole way back to the martial hall.
Meng Juxiang had already received the news.
He was waiting for them by the Elephant Washing Pool.
When he saw them return, he immediately stepped forward and carefully examined Zhang Meng's injuries.
Medicine and martial arts went hand in hand. As a Sixth-Grade martial artist, Meng Juxiang was an expert when it came to treating external injuries.
After looking him over, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"His internal organs are shaken, and his blood and qi are surging, but fortunately, his foundations haven't been damaged."
"Carry Zhang Meng away and let him rest properly. Use all the medicine in the martial hall."
Li Beichen also felt a weight lift from his heart.
Zhang Meng's actions today had been beyond his expectations.
He had thought that Zhang Meng, who was always going on about human relationships and how life was