Bloody, brutal, ruthless...
As they watched the figure on the platform still rubbing the flesh and blood on his hands, an eerie silence first fell over the spectators below, before they erupted into earthshaking cheers as though possessed.
One against six. From beginning to end, it had taken barely three to five minutes.
Thud!
Only then did the corpse in front of Lian Youming crash heavily to the ground.
Looking at the platform, almost entirely stained red with blood, the two South Koreans could no longer spare a thought for anything else. Their faces white as paper, they fled desperately toward the edge. Once they got off the platform, they would lose.
But losing was better than dying.
As long as they survived, there would be another chance.
The two were also speaking in Korean, seemingly conceding defeat.
But the moment they left the platform, before they even landed, before they had even finished conceding, a sudden chill struck the centers of their backs.
Standing on the platform, Lian Youming flicked his fingers twice. Two darts struck them in the back, blooming into two flowers of blood.
Without looking at the corpses tumbling to the ground, he walked over to the Bai Clan disciples who were still breathing and looked down at them, his face expressionless. "Cough, cough... Don't get smug. Our Bai family won't let you off, and neither will the saintly assassins of Islam. Someone will come to avenge this blood debt..."
A burly, full-bearded Muslim man leaned against a platform post, glaring fixedly at Lian Youming, then screamed out his dying curse. Lian Youming's expression remained unchanged as he said flatly, "Our feet decide victory and defeat; our fists decide life and death. I'll be waiting!"
With that, he swept out a kick.
Some things were either