But Yang Jing's eyes were cold as ice, and his assault only grew more ferocious.
His strength was already superior, and his speed was far beyond anything Yuwen Mingjue could match. With both advantages stacked against him, Yuwen Mingjue's defense grew increasingly feeble.
After another dozen or so exchanges, Yuwen Mingjue's injuries worsened. Blood constantly trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his footing became unsteady.
Down below, the spectating disciples were already dumbfounded, their gasps of shock rising and falling in waves.
Many had been certain that Yuwen Mingjue would win, but the reality unfolding before them was a harsh slap in the face.
Yuwen Mingjue's defeat seemed imminent.
On the Cyan Qilin Platform, Yang Jing unleashed another five ferocious attacks. The wind from his fists was sharp, and every strike was aimed to kill.
