As soon as Bai Tianshan heard that, he leaped onto the ring and began counting over the South Korean exorcist, who had already passed out cold.
One, two, three...
The South Korean side kept shouting:
"Oppa!"
"Get up, oppa!"
"..."
They were pressed against the edge of the ring, yelling.
They were probably telling the kid to get up quickly.
Zhang Yuchen chuckled. "Too much kimchi, and he falls asleep the moment he hits the ground. If they wake him up, won't he just get slapped by my bell again?"
None of us spoke, our expressions calm.
Master was even scrolling through short videos, not sparing the ring a single glance.
We had only come this time to meet some fellow practitioners from abroad and broaden our horizons.
Master had no interest in it whatsoever.
Very soon, Bai Tianshan counted to ten.
With a sweep of both hands, he announced directly, "The fifth match goes to our side."
The moment his words fell, a South Korean exorcist climbed onto the ring.
"Damn it!"
"We almost had it!"
"..."
They babbled away, and I could not make out much of it. They were probably complaining.
None of us understood much Korean, not even Zhang Yuchen, the edgy chuuni guy.
"What are those people babbling about?" Zhang Yuchen grumbled.
At that moment, Zuo Feng, who had lost earlier, suddenly approached from the other side and chimed in, "They're cursing us while saying they were just a little short of winning."
That counted as almost winning?
Hearing that, we looked up.
Zuo Feng clasped his fists. His eyes had been hit with lime powder and were still red and swollen.
"Boundless Heavenly Worthy."
Seeing him clasp his fists, we did the same. It was basic etiquette within the mystic community.
"Boundless Heavenly Worthy."