Looking at the middle‑aged man trampled under Lu Tianxing's foot, lying there like a dead dog, everyone couldn't help feeling secretly grateful. In their hearts they'd really thought Lu Tianxing definitely wouldn't win this time, that he would die under Tang Qingyun's hands, so when Lu Tianxing and Tang Qingyun clashed, they'd wanted to show off in front of Tang Qingyun as well, but that middle‑aged man had simply rushed ahead of them. At first they'd even felt a bit regretful about it.
But now, seeing how things turned out, everyone only felt lucky. Fortunately it was that middle‑aged man who rushed ahead; otherwise, the one lying on the ground, crippled like a dead dog, wouldn't be him—it would be them.
At the same time, everyone now had a clear understanding of Lu Tianxing's strength in their hearts—Middle-stage Mythical, in Lu Tianxing's eyes, was something he could crush with a flip of his hand, kill at will.
