"Pah! Weren't you acting all high and mighty?
Turns out you're just a little punk who can't take a single hit. Go home and drink your milk!
Heh heh heh..."
Ying Ming Hao burst into wild laughter, the deafening sound echoing over the entire Martial Training Ground.
As he laughed, he effortlessly lifted the once-arrogant White-Armored General with one hand.
The White-Armored General could no longer offer any resistance and hung limply from Ying Ming Hao's hand.
The Poplar Wood Long Spear he had clutched so tightly had already been cleaved in two by a single slash from Ying Ming Hao, sending splinters flying from the break.
Not only that, the white armor across the White-Armored General's chest had shattered completely, as though smashed by a heavy hammer, exposing the bloody, mangled flesh beneath.
Worse still, blood poured from the corner of his mouth like a gushing spring, soon staining a large patch of ground red.
Holding his opponent like a rag doll, Ying Ming Hao stood quietly and waited for a while, but the man still gave no response.
Losing patience, he casually flung the White-Armored General away like a piece of trash, sending him crashing onto the Tournament Platform.
With a dull thud, the battered body collided violently with the hard stone slabs, then rolled several times before coming to a stop.
At Ying Ming Hao's feet lay many other disciples in equally miserable states, sprawled every which way.
Some wore terrified expressions, some were pale as paper, and others clutched their wounds and groaned in agony. Once, they too had been full of swagger, looking down their noses at everyone. But now?
Ying Ming Hao had beaten them until they practically pissed and shit themselves, and they had failed to inflict even the slightest injury on