Yang Hong narrowed his slit-pupiled eyes, a trace of wariness flashing across his ferocious tiger head.
Whether it was Mu Chen or that black pagoda, something inexplicably suppressed him, leaving him unable to unleash even seventy percent of his strength.
The spectators watching from outside the arena erupted in an uproar at the outcome.
They had never expected a fight that had been evenly matched just moments ago to suddenly become so one-sided.
Mu Chen stood in midair, holding the black pagoda aloft.
Seeing how effective it was, he broke into a brilliant smile and immediately pressed his advantage, swinging the black pagoda down again.
Another thunderous crash rang out!
Having suffered once already, Yang Hong chose not to clash head-on with Mu Chen. Instead, he opened his cavernous, blood-red maw and spat a blast of azure breath at the black pagoda.
The breath dispersed, leaving the black pagoda completely unscathed.
At this sight, Yang Hong was on the verge of a breakdown. Mu Chen suppressed him at close range, while his ranged attacks barely scratched an itch.
How was he supposed to fight? There was no way.
Clinging to a sliver of hope, Yang Hong opened his mouth and spat another blast of breath.
Boom!
The black pagoda was like an immovable reef standing amid a raging current. The emerald breath struck it and raised only a spray of sparks.
It did not even leave a single scratch on its hard surface.
Watching the frustrated expression on Yang Hong's tiger head, Su Qing's lips curled into the faintest cold, mocking smile.
That black pagoda could be considered an innate divine ability of the Buddha Ancient Clan. Even he would have to put in some effort to break it.
Let alone Yang Hong.
Before the breath had dispersed, Mu Chen