King Xiuyuan was furious and anxious. He threw punch after punch, each more vicious than the last, but as his fists met his opponent's palms, he could only ever manage a stalemate, never gaining the upper hand.
"Why is this happening?!" King Xiuyuan let out an angry roar. At that moment, his lips were smeared with blood, his royal robe was torn, and his hair hung disheveled over his shoulders. To an unknowing observer, he might have been mistaken for a beggar.
Of course, Ling Han didn't look much better. His armor was drenched in fresh blood, and his long hair was just as messy. But unlike King Xiuyuan, who now resembled an old beggar, Ling Han still exuded the aura of a fierce and valiant general.
"Was Old Ming just spouting nonsense?"
"He must have been."
"He said our king would be our savior? How is that possible? He can't even defeat the enemy's general!"
"It's over."
