In the Nether Spring Office's ranks, Liu Qing stood half a step behind Yan Wuyuan, her fists clenched inside her sleeves and a trace of worry on her face.
It was not that she cared about Yi Yang, but he was Jiang Yuexin's grandfather, after all.
If he failed to withstand the next strike...
Liu Qing tilted her head and glanced at Yan Wuyuan ahead of her.
Yan Wuyuan sat languidly in her chair, her right hand resting on the armrest, her fingers tapping irregularly against the wood.
That inscrutable curve still lingered at the corners of her mouth.
Her expression showed not a trace of anxiety over her subordinate's impending defeat.
She had not even furrowed those lovely brows.
Seeing how composed her young lady was, Liu Qing quietly unclenched her fists and thought:
Young Lady isn't worried. That means everything is fine.
On the other side of the platform, Ji Yunzhang held a hand behind his back and rubbed his cheekbone twice with his index finger.
He stared at Yi Yang's hands gripping the saber in the ring for three breaths.
Then he said quietly:
"He hasn't gone all out."
His voice was so soft that only those standing beside him could hear.
On the other side, Xiao Zhengyan's eyelids twitched, and his gaze also settled on Yi Yang.
Yi Yang had been forced back three steps, blood had appeared at the corner of his mouth, and his left hand was injured.
He looked as though he was on the verge of serious injury.
But his breathing was wrong!
After taking a heavy blow from a true astral realm fighter, a third inner qi martial artist would suffer an accelerated heartbeat, erratic breathing, and a brief disruption in the circulation of his qi and blood, even if he