On the field, Xu Qi 'an stood proudly.
Jing si fell to the ground. The knife wound on his chest and abdomen had penetrated deep into his bones, and his damaged organs could be seen. His face was pale, and he could no longer maintain his meditation posture.
The fine golden light gathered again and converged into his wound, repairing his flesh and blood.
"I've said it before, I'll only use one blade!" Xu Qi 'an said indifferently.
At this moment, the thousands of people in the capital were speechless.
There was about four to five seconds of silence, and then, suddenly, a wave of noise came.
Some people screamed, some cheered, and some even burst into tears, sweeping away the grievances they had suffered for the past few days.
"I, Da Feng, am the Orthodox lineage of the nine regions, and my culture and martial arts are number one in the world!" A scholar shouted.
"Xu shikui's martial Dao is unparalleled, the number one in the world."
