The cheers from the Soto Grand Arena surged like floodwaters bursting through a dam, shaking the entire building until it trembled.
Amid the dazzling golden afterglow, Su Yun stood quietly at the center of the arena.
He gave the folding fan in his hand a lazy wave. His white robes fluttered in the wind, and with the Eight-Winged Afterimage still fading behind him, he radiated an air of majesty and aloofness that seemed to place him above all others.
Before him, the Imperial Fighting Team, once famed as invincible among their peers and utterly unchallenged, now looked utterly miserable.
Yu Tianheng sat collapsed beneath the arena. The dragon scales on his right arm still twitched faintly, and his eyes were full of confusion and defeat.
The Shi Mo brothers lay on the ground like two shattered stones, unable to get back up.
Su Yun surveyed the crowd, then let his gaze pass over the sea of faces and settle on Qin Ming in the stands.
"Qin Ming."
Su Yun's voice was not loud, yet Soul Power carried it clearly over the shouts of tens of thousands.
"Is this the team you brought out of Shrek? Is this what you call the royal elite?"
Qin Ming's face turned deathly pale.
He had thought that even if the Imperial Fighting Team lost, they would at least put up a fierce fight. He had never expected them to be dismissed so hastily, in a way that made it seem as if they had been toyed with.
"Young Master Su... The Imperial Fighting Team's skills were lacking. I've learned my lesson."
Qin Ming lowered his head. As a Soul Emperor, what he felt now was not just the gap in strength, but the shame of a failing legacy.
Su Yun let out a cold