Please vote to recommend this story.
Please keep reading through to the last page.
The viewing area below the stage had erupted as well.
Chen Mu abruptly turned toward Chen Xiaojun and asked excitedly, "Sixth, Xiao Yi... did you... did you not know she had a Hundred Thousand Year Soul Ring either?"
Chen Xiaojun did not answer immediately.
[Remember this site's domain-your first choice for reading Taiwanese novels, anytime.]
He watched the figure seated quietly in the arena. After a moment of silence, his face showed none of the joy or shock others had expected, but rather a profound pensiveness.
First, he instinctively looked back, his gaze passing through the crowd to the figure standing at the competitors' entrance, still as a deep pool and imposing as a mountain-Chen Hong.
This chapter originated from .
Then he raised his eyes toward the Chen Clan's designated spot among the ring of VIP private rooms in the stands-Private Room No. 22-as though confirming something, or perhaps weighing something.
There was no fervor in his eyes, only an unmistakable gravity.
Above the arena, a blood-red ring hung suspended. A slender willow branch had frozen a world-shaking hammer in place, while that new vine, green as jade, stood quietly amid towering waves of force, emanating an incongruously ancient air.
This scene that defied all reason was like an invisible giant hand, choking off the earthshaking roar. After its frenzy reached its peak, the vast Arena fell into an eerie silence, oppressive as the stillness before a downpour.
Deep within the competitors' passage, the solemnity on Yang Jingxue's oval face intensified. Without turning her head, she sent a faint but clear pulse of soul power directly into Chen Hong's ear. "Brother Hong, what exactly is going on?"
The muscles in Chen Hong's cheeks