The Art of Explosions

The Art of Explosion

Zhang Sanxian's figure vanished at the end of Screen Sea City's streets, leaving behind nothing but a devastated martial arena.

The grounds were strewn with wailing wounded, charred corpses, and ruptured earth.

The murky air reeked of blood and thick, burnt stench, making the place seem almost like hell.

Yun Feiyang stared at it all, gripping his sword hilt so tightly his face had turned livid. Humiliation, fury, and fear tangled within him.

The old monk Huijue closed his eyes, chanting sutras as he sighed without end. Miao Lie and Qin Hongyu silently swept their gazes across the martial arena, their expressions deep and complicated, impossible to read.

As for Su Zhi, she was busy directing Sea Immortal Island's disciples to enter the grounds and tend to the grievously wounded.

Yet amid all this chaos, grief, and indignation, no one noticed that Rock True Person of Vast Mountain was reacting differently from everyone else.

On that face seemingly carved from granite, there was neither sorrow nor rage—only profound coldness and a faint, barely detectable trace of glee.

What a Zhang Sanxian. This truly is an unexpected delight.

Rock True Person sneered inwardly. Master Luo had long intended to clear out this bunch of troublesome martial wanderers, but before he could act, you beat him to it. Heh heh heh. Fine. Now everyone's attention has shifted to those unlucky fools in the arena, and no one is watching anything else. Perfectly convenient for me to get to work.

Without drawing any attention, he quietly slipped away and left the venue.

Most people were immersed in shock, grief, and rage, and failed to notice Rock True Person's departure.

Only Miao Lie, who had been bored out of his mind and looking around idly, happened to spot it.

He