Zhou Yuhao miserably screamed, and the corners of his mouth were overflowing with blood. His expression was completely pale, and he was running for his life. With so many attacks coming at him, all types of symbols were densely packed as they sparkled with light. Everyone was oppressing and beating him.
Geniuses were still human, and as he faced off against a hundred of the large tribes’ most powerful youths, he couldn’t defend himself at all. Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, and his disheveled hair was fluttering about; it was a tragic sight.
Typically, he was a noble and untamed steed. He was naturally talented, and would not even care about these ordinary disciples. Although he wouldn’t speak words of contempt, he always despised them within his heart. However now, he was being madly beaten.
