Lin Feichen was consumed by rage.
He was, after all, the sixth-ranked disciple on the Saint Institute's Holy Stele. Yet, even with a weapon, he had been unable to withstand a single one of his opponent's moves.
To lose an arm in a single exchange—it was a disgrace. An utter humiliation!
Such shame could only be washed away with Lin Hao's blood.
As Lin Feichen's roar echoed, a terrifying phenomenon materialized in the sky above the Trial Forest.
Hazy mists converged, pressing down like the collapsing heavens and giving rise to an aura of utter annihilation.
Hundreds of meters away, the bodies of many onlookers began to tremble uncontrollably, until they could no longer even stand.
The terrifying pressure stole their breath, making them feel as if they were suffocating.
Despite losing an arm, Lin Feichen's terrifying might did not diminish. Instead, it swelled to an extreme, becoming more tyrannical than ever.
