Shi Dang's fists were clenched tight at his sides. His nails dug so deep into his palms they drew blood, but he was completely oblivious to the pain.
He had to become stronger!
Stronger than Qin Feng!
-----------------
As the deafening wave of cheers surged from all directions like a physical tide, threatening to drown one's very soul, Qin Feng had already slipped away from his friends' wild celebration.
He moved through the deliriously excited crowd to a relatively secluded corner of the stands. Leaning back against the cold metal wall, he slowly exhaled.
The joy of victory was like a fine, mellow wine, but it didn't intoxicate him.
Rather than the deafening praise and worship of the "monster" around him, he was more concerned with the tangible spoils of war—the ones that could be converted into personal strength.
Qin Feng raised his hand, and with a thought, a pale blue virtual screen that only he could see quietly materialized before his eyes.
