Hong Kong.
Though the bloody round of combat had ended, some ordinary spectators outside the arena still stood dazed, cold sweat pouring from their foreheads, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, their pupils faintly dilating.
They had been overawed by Bai Meng's Way of the Spirit. The man had killed too many people, his baleful aura overwhelming. With his spiritual intent projected outward, he was like a tiger perched on a mountain, hunting every beast. These timid ordinary people were like rabbits in the forest, their spirits shaken by facing him directly.
"Anyone who doesn't want to die, get out!"
Yang Lian looked grave. This had only been the opening fight. If Lian Youming fought the other formidable enemies, his momentum would inevitably surge. Then his spiritual intent would hang overhead like the blazing sun, his body would become pure yang, and with his various powers of visualization added in, even looking straight at him would be beyond these ordinary people.
It was like a village mongrel suddenly encountering a vicious tiger that had descended the mountain to hunt in the depths of winter. Forget collapsing or wetting itself in terror-even dying of fright on the spot would be nothing unusual.
Some retreated step by step, their faces deathly pale, while others remained unmoved, staring with burning eyes.
What had just happened was merely the appetizer. The main event was still to come.
Exchanges between experts like these were rare in this world. Missing them would mean a lifetime of regret.
Ordinary people refused to miss it, and martial artists dared miss it even less.
Of these towering figures of the Three Teachings, which was not among the most outstanding people in today's martial world?
Fire tempered true gold; fists proved the great Way. If they could glean anything from this, the