Everyone beheld an utterly unimaginable scene.
Yang Chen held a strange flame in his hand. Not only had he directly torn through the Phoenix Flame, he had even pressed one hand against Zhao Hu's head and, with a bang, slammed Zhao Hu down onto the arena.
At that moment, Zhao Hu was like a dog bereft of its home, viciously pinned to the arena by Yang Chen. His earlier arrogance vanished without a trace. He could only struggle with a twisted expression, yet he could not break free from Yang Chen's suppression.
Gradually, despair surfaced on Zhao Hu's face.
He had never imagined that Yang Chen would defeat him in such a manner.
One move—only one move.
Everyone was stunned. Both were at the True God Stage, and everyone had considered several possible outcomes. A draw? Yang Chen winning? Zhao Hu winning?
All were possible. But Yang Chen had dispatched Zhao Hu so simply, in an instant, making it difficult for anyone to believe. Some even felt they had seen it wrong.
The gap in their strength was far too vast. They were not on the same level at all. Even though both were at the True God Stage, Zhao Hu before Yang Chen was like a child playing house.
Yang Chen might still leave others some dignity and show them some courtesy, allowing both sides to discuss matters amicably and decide victory or defeat. But when it came to Feng Xiaotian's sworn younger brother, he could not do that.
Then, Yang Chen exerted further pressure, instantly driving the blue flames into Zhao Hu's body. Zhao Hu spat out a mouthful of blood with a wail and fainted on the spot.
Only after a while did the people of Cloud Sky Sect react, then erupt into piercing cheers and screams.