In the arena, Li Zheng retracted the Demon Thunder Wings behind him, landing vertically, raising clouds of dust.
Mudala flew back, landing and taking three steps to stabilize herself, her palm brushing over the spot on her chest where Li Zheng's punch had landed, her expression indifferent.
"Were you holding back?" Li Zheng's face was gloomy, as the opponent suddenly stopped at the last moment, nearly making him unable to hold back, almost injuring her.
Mudala turned and said, "The point of the contest isn't to determine life or death, so there's no need to go all out. You won, wait here, I'll go pack my things and leave with you."
After speaking, she walked into the cabin to pack her things.
Mirel approached, linking her arm with Li Zheng's, and said softly, "She has been lonely here for over thirty years. If not for her ancestral teachings, she might have left long ago. This time, deliberately losing to you was just going with the flow."
