"Heh."
Like a hunting wildcat, Li Feng's skeleton made a shifting noise as his body eerily side-stepped at the moment of impact. He caught the Tyrant's arm in a backhand grip and spun mid-air like a rubber band, completing half a rotation.
He flew up into the air, his knees clamping around the Tyrant's head, and then he spun 360 degrees like a bottle opener.
Crack!
No matter how strong a person is, the neck is always a weak spot.
The Tyrant was no exception.
Li Feng landed perfectly from his backflip, his posture comparable to that of a gymnast, while the Tyrant behind him had his head twisted to his back, standing erect in the arena.
"I warned you, don't mess with me."
"Why can't you understand Yan Country's language."
Li Feng mourned for his opponent; why didn't he learn another foreign language? Knowing a foreign language is really important.
"The Tyrant... The Tyrant is dead."
