Who could have expected that after Wang Zhan had tangled with them for so long, with the arena floor shockingly scarred, both sides had merely been feigning, holding back their true strength to stage such a grand spectacle?
Wang Zhan sensed the shift in their auras—a touch of grim resolve, the scent of blood, and a profound weight that settled in his heart. How similar this was to his friends from the Eastern Battlefield, the ones who had lost limbs in the fighting. Even when facing death, even when their survival was uncertain, even when the future was unknown, even with so much reluctance, they could not retreat a single step. There was only death, only to die fighting!
Wang Zhan's back slowly straightened. He gradually closed his eyes and ears, and the smile on his face vanished completely, his expression turning solemn and merciless.
