Ning Zhuo gazed calmly at the other three cultivators.
With a solemn expression, he clasped his hands in salute: "Further fighting is pointless. What do the three of you think?"
The three cultivators looked at each other.
Originally, if Tie Zheng and Ning Zhuo continued to exhaust each other, they had a good chance. But with just one sentence, Ning Zhuo struck a chord in Tie Zheng's weakest spot and successfully persuaded him to surrender.
The remaining three cultivators faced Ning Zhuo, who was still capable of fighting, and found themselves in an awkward position.
To fight or not to fight?
The three cultivators showed hesitation.
Ning Zhuo took a deep breath, mobilizing his divine sense, several pieces of mysterious armor floated around him, slowly rotating.
Pa.
The bronze whip cracked loudly, snapping the three cultivators back to reality.
One of them sighed deeply: "Well, if even a Golden Core like Tie Zheng has conceded, then I too will surrender."
