Yang Jing watched him go, his expression serene. He offered no reply.
The path of the Martial Dao was a constant struggle, like rowing upstream. 'Having a rival to contend with isn't necessarily a bad thing.'
He pulled his gaze back and looked down from the stage at the few remaining Dark Energy Martial Artists of the Li Family. In a clear voice, he said, "Gentlemen, the fist exchange isn't over. By the rules, it's your turn. Please, enlighten me."
Upon hearing his words, the Li Family's Dark Energy Martial Artists glanced at one another, their expressions grim.
The image of Yang Jing crushing Li Mengchao was still vivid in their minds. Even from a distance, they had felt the oppressive might of a Huajin Powerhouse.
Forcing them onto the stage to fight him now was tantamount to throwing an egg against a stone. They would only go up there to get beaten, and they might even suffer internal injuries in the process.
