The Artificial Continent had boundaries. Lin Qing could not keep flying straight ahead forever, and if he flew diagonally, he would be unable to shake off these deathsworn fighters.
That was precisely what the deathsworn fighters intended to exploit. Sooner or later, one of them would intercept Lin Qing. As long as that person could hold him up until the others arrived, he would have no escape even if he sprouted wings.
This was also exactly what Lin Qing had planned. He could not reveal too much of his formidable combat strength, so he could only pick them off one by one.
Lin Qing had already drawn the attention of many spectators, and this scene naturally sparked some discussion.
"It's over! Someone's got Xingdu in their sights!"
"Come on, don't do this! I bet on him making the top hundred."
The spectators discussed whether Lin Qing could survive, but none questioned these people teaming up.
That was because people formed teams in every tournament, but they usually failed to survive to the end.
The map was still vast, allowing their dozen or so members to throw their weight around here. Once the map shrank later on, teams like theirs would instead become targets for everyone to gang up on.
"Look! They're about to fight!"
As time passed, Lin Qing seemed to realize that continuing to run like this was no solution.
Fortunately, the deathsworn squad had spread out widely to encircle him, so Lin Qing took the initiative and charged toward one of them.
"Hmph, you want to use me as your way out? Come and try!"
Every one of these people stood at the very pinnacle of the Eleventh Tier. They had endured numerous battles to the death and enjoyed the finest resources and equipment. They believed themselves no