In a single move, an instantaneous burst of Triple Strength had annihilated everything.
One of the Three Celestial Assassins, defeated at the peak of his power, crashed into the Neon Camp, his fate unknown.
At the edge of the arena, Zhao Xuanqi stood tall, his gaze cast down.
High above, his aura surged like a black tide reaching for the heavens. The form of the Qilin loomed over all, its eyes looking down as if gazing upon ants.
All the Neon Martial Artists who had turned to glare in fury were stunned by the sight. The immense, oppressive force made it impossible to look directly at him. The rage in their hearts was doused as if by a bucket of cold water, and they subconsciously lowered their eyes.
Only then did they react, raising their gazes again in shock.
But by now, the edge of the arena was empty. The terrifying, tide-like aura had vanished without a trace, and the celestial radiance was gone. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Where was the figure of Zhao Xuanqi?
