The entire Arena stood empty. Eers had vanished completely.
There was no body, no blood, no remnant soul. Nothing.
Even Green Bamboo had disappeared without a trace.
Ning An stood where he was, his hands hanging at his sides, the light in his amber eyes fading rapidly.
The white phantom behind him was gone, and the Saintly Bloodline within him had burned away completely.
He looked down at his hands. Once, the Law of Light had flowed through them. Now they were pale and withered, like a mortal's.
He tried to beat his wings, only to find that a single, tattered white wing remained on his back. The other had turned entirely to ash as his Saintly Bloodline burned.
The Saintly Breath within him had dissipated. The laws were gone. His bloodline was gone.
He had become a cripple, through and through.
Ning An lifted a foot, intending to leave the Arena.
But he stumbled and nearly fell. Gritting his teeth, he steadied himself and limped toward the edge of the Arena, one step at a time.
His Golden Armor lay shattered. Only one white wing remained. His pale-gold hair was dry as straw, and his face was deathly pale.
He walked slowly, with great difficulty, teetering with every step. But he did not stop.
Beyond the Arena, silence reigned.
Every cultivator watched that limping figure in silence.
No one spoke. No one applauded. No one cheered.
They knew the price of this victory was too heavy.
Ning An had won, but he had lost his Saintly Bloodline, the Law of Light, and one of his wings.
He had gone from a powerhouse of the Third Heaven Quasi-Saint Realm to a cripple.
A cripple through and through.
Ning An left the Arena and disappeared into the crowd.
No one knew