Cilian's aura collapsed as quickly as a punctured ball. In the blink of an eye, he went from an unfathomable martial arts expert to an ordinary Grandmaster.
Meanwhile, Wu Liangchen landed on the ground, his expression calm as he watched the head of the Vajra Institute, whose face had become deathly pale.
"You've lost!"
"Yes, I've lost!" Cilian's eyes were filled with bewilderment.
As he spoke, his figure gradually became stooped, and countless wrinkles appeared on his once perfectly maintained face.
At the same time, his breathing became ragged. He panted heavily like a desperately thirsty dog. HUFF... PUFF...
"No… Don't do this!" Sensing the changes in his own body, Cilian screamed almost hysterically. He pulled a small medicine vial from his robes, uncorked it, and desperately poured all the pills inside into his mouth.
