Everyone fell silent, even Zhongli Wu, who had been brimming with confidence.
Over the previous two hours, Zhongli Wu had made a series of arrangements, and Wu Yun was his first move.
Since Chen Ping dared to step forward and declare that he would take on ten opponents alone, he must have considerable reserves.
Under these circumstances, Zhongli Wu had worked out a very thorough plan.
Wu Yun had entered the field with only one objective: attrition.
Relying on the power and tenacity of his dark abilities, he was to drain as much of Chen Ping's Soul Power as possible and create opportunities for those who came after him. Zhongli Wu had even permitted Wu Yun to concede if necessary.
After all, raising an Evil Soul Master to become a Titled Douluo was no easy task, and Wu Yun had just broken through to Super Douluo. Once his cultivation stabilized, he would be a major asset in the future.
And a Super Douluo's ability to survive far exceeded that of a Titled Douluo.
Zhongli Wu had originally believed this would be a drawn-out struggle. Even if Chen Ping could win, defeating a Super Douluo with eight rings should have required quite a few exchanges, unless he once again used his trump card of merging eight rings into one.
Yet he had never imagined that, in the mere instant after the black mist enveloped Chen Ping, Wu Yun would perish at Chen Ping's hands, even his soul annihilated. He had not even managed to unleash his Martial Soul Avatar.
No one present knew what had happened in that instant. All they knew was that, when the mist cleared, Chen Ping had already killed Wu Yun.
Had Chen Ping actually become this powerful?
This thought surfaced in the minds of almost all