"I... lost?!"
Sen Zhenlong's face was a mask of shock, his eyes filled with bewilderment.
He just stared blankly at the heavens, unmoving.
He'd lost.
He had lost once again.
And this time, he had lost even faster.
He had clearly undergone his ancestor's brutal training, putting his life on the line.
But in the end, he was defeated in just a few rounds.
This outcome was truly beyond his expectations.
At this moment, the heavens cracked open.
The pitch-black rifts into the void were dense, like a spiderweb on a shattered mirror, creating an oppressive atmosphere.
Within them, a colossal phantom of a Golden Crow spread its wings, erupting in orange-yellow flames that set the sky ablaze, burning fiercely and suppressing the world below.
Beneath the phantom of the Golden Crow stood Fang Yang, wielding the Golden Ancient Spear with a frigid expression.
He had been able to crush Sen Zhenlong even when it was just a phantom of a Three-legged Crow.
