Zhou Wan stood several zhang beyond the edge of the battle zone, spiritual light flowing endlessly around her fingertips as enhancement runes for stamina and agility landed precisely upon Beiming Li and Ling Anxin.
Yet deep within her eyes lay a detachment so cold it was almost removed from the world.
The match's outcome had already faded from her mind—at this point, no matter the result, she had already lost. There was a gap in strength; losing was nothing shameful. But after painstakingly plotting until the very end, she had turned out to be the one who had been deceived. That stifled resentment in her heart was painfully real.
Infiltrating the enemy camp in disguise and waiting for a chance to launch a sneak attack—those had all been excuses to fool Qu Lin. She had actually started giving up long ago. She only wanted to find an opportunity to teach Qu Lin a lesson, then simply withdraw.
And now, more than victory or defeat, she wanted to see just how many trump cards the heirs of these three top powers could still produce upon the final stage of the tournament.
Ling Anxin saw the subtle atmosphere between Zhou Wan and Qu Lin perfectly clearly, yet revealed nothing on her face. Instead, she played along with the situation. She deliberately guided the battle, constantly demanding different weapons from Zhou Wan—at times she needed long weapons for thrusting, at others heavy hammers for smashing.
She fought steadily yet craftily, her commands never stopping, forcing Zhou Wan to follow her rhythm and frequently change the forms of the weapons she drew. Every stroke, every solidified streak of light, quietly drained Zhou Wan's already meager spiritual power.
Ling Anxin understood perfectly well: whether Zhou Wan was sincerely assisting them or had other motives, as