Zhong Dingshan stared at the wound on his chest in disbelief, muttering to himself after a long pause: "I didn't expect it... I underestimated my opponent."
The next moment, Ye Haochuan's sword was already in front of him, the tip resting against his throat. He said slowly, "You lost."
This sword stroke, Zhong Dingshan had long noticed, but he did not resist. From the moment he was injured, he had already lost.
If this were a life-and-death battle, that glint of cold light earlier wouldn't have pierced his chest.
The outcome was decided. Both sides withdrew their mysterious techniques, and the sword qi and long spears in the sky vanished, returning to calm.
Everyone stared blankly at the scene before them, as if in a dream, unable to believe it.
The Proud World Alliance... lost!
And they lost completely. All three matches were defeats; they did not even get the chance for a fourth bout.
The members of Proud World Alliance were utterly stunned.
