When the smoke and ice crystals dispersed, Cu Chulainn was leaning on his long spear, standing at the spot. The ground beneath him had a large depression, his right arm hung limply, and his lower body was hammered into the earth.
"Cough... cough..."
Cu Chulainn vomited a large mouthful of blood with a wow, letting out a miserable laugh. The heroic spirit energy he had been devoured was too deadly, causing his combat strength to drastically decline. Otherwise, facing a severely wounded enemy, he wouldn't have lost so badly. Of course, Cu Chulainn would never say these things—defeat is defeat, and no reason is enough to erase the word 'failure'.
Heavy footsteps approached, and Cu Chulainn looked forward. Through the misty ice fog, he saw a pair of blood-red eyes.
