"Although it was difficult, I still won," said the ascetic monk.
Twice victorious.
The purple-gold Daoist, holding the Holy Halberd, breathlessly bowed to the cultivators on the ground.
Gui Erchun had already witnessed this scene three times not long ago.
Every time it was the same.
"You, you..."
Gui Erchun's hand trembled as he pointed to the sky, suddenly feeling darkness befall him, and like Wang Lang, he collapsed facedown.
"Brother Gui, Brother Gui, what's wrong with you?" The surrounding cultivators immediately cried out in alarm.
As the afternoon arrived, Yi Chen, unlike before, didn't leave after winning but sat high on a cloud platform provided by Great Qin, watching the distant battle.
The figures of two people fiercely battling each other were reflected in his pupils.
By now, Yi Chen could almost be certain that the mysterious expert hidden among the Martial King's subordinates was the Sacred Puppet Sect's Blood Spirit Son.
