"Wow, such a powerful surge of energy."
"This is what a true master looks like."
The crowd rose to their feet. The Martial Daoists wore solemn expressions, their faces showing a touch of respect.
As the dust settled and the smoke cleared,
Melo stood in the air above the ring, his left hand behind his back and his right hand resting on his chest, his expression calm. Not far away, the old lama had only stepped back a few steps and stood firm. His face was calm, but inside he felt a turmoil of emotions.
Spurt...
After a moment, a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out.
"I'm defeated," the old lama exhaled softly and said, "But, it was worth it to be defeated."
"Hmph!" Melo scoffed and said, "Old monk, in heaven and earth, 'only I am honored.' Whatever white robed youth you've made up, if they even exist, they're certainly not a match for me. In this world, I, Melo, only acknowledge one person!"
