"You lost, Young Master Wu," Shen Yu said softly, his golden eyes completely tranquil, his breathing as steady as if he had merely been reciting poetry.
For a second, the entire pavilion held its breath, staring at the absolute dominance of the Golden Paragon.
Then, in a flash, the chilling martial pressure vanished. The terrifying grandmaster retreated back into the abyss, and the benevolent, holy savior returned. Shen Yu pulled his hand back, his face instantly softening into a warm, deeply respectful, and magnanimous smile.
With a display of unmatched nobility and righteous grace, Shen Yu bent down and extended his open, pristine hand to help the defeated young lord off the ruined floor.
"Thank you for the profound spar, Young Master Wu," Shen Yu said warmly, his voice dripping with humility as he looked down at the shivering, broken youth.
"Your Iron Mountain Fist is truly fearsome. I have learned an immense amount from your guidance tonight."
