"I concede!"
The words had barely fallen when Qin Yu, not even daring to glance back at Li Mengchao, turned and walked off the arena platform, his steps hurried and panicked.
Li Mengchao stared daggers at his retreating back, his hands clenched into tight fists and his chest heaving violently.
He wanted nothing more than to chase after Qin Yu and tear him to shreds, but his opponent had clearly and loudly conceded. The training ground trials had rules: no attacks were permitted after a fighter yielded.
The burning hatred and killing intent were trapped in his chest, threatening to make him explode. In the end, it could only erupt as a low, guttural roar that made the wooden planks of the platform buzz.
A dead silence fell over the spectator stands. Everyone could see just how incandescent Li Mengchao's rage was.
