Hearing the words "I lost," Yang Wanqing let out a long breath.
Her chest rose and fell, and a brilliant smile spread across her face. At least she had not embarrassed her master. If she had lost, she would probably have been miserable for a week.
She cupped her fists and bowed slightly. "Thank you for the match."
With his junior sister's help, Xu Yunda stood up and rubbed his aching chest. He gave a bitter smile. "Miss Yang, your fist techniques are exquisite. I concede defeat."
He paused, his voice dropping with an indescribable note of self-mockery. "I thought reaching the Return to the True Realm at thirty-three made me the strongest of the younger generation. I never imagined I would lose my very first fight after leaving the mountain."
Desolation filled his heart. He had hoped to make his name through this match, revitalize the Mount Qingcheng Sect, and fulfill the sect leader's hopes. Instead, he had suffered a crushing defeat, and every plan had come to nothing.
Yang Wanqing scratched her head and smiled a little sheepishly. All her earlier fierceness vanished, and she became that sweet, charming young woman again—utterly fierce in a fight, soft and adorable off the stage. The contrast could not have been sharper.
Xu Yunda drew a deep breath and turned toward the rest area, cupping his fists in Chen Hao's direction. Resentment at his defeat and reverence for greater heights mingled on his face.
Then he turned toward the phone camera on the tripod and bowed deeply. "I'll honor my promise. Junior sister, transfer five hundred thousand to Miss Yang."
His junior sister nodded and took out her phone to make the transfer.
Yang Wanqing's phone vibrated. She looked down and saw that five hundred thousand yuan had arrived in her