The granite competition platform exploded with a loud "boom," sending shards flying and dust soaring.
A gentle breeze blew through, dispersing the dust.
Han Yan remained in place, standing atop a pile of rubble. His demeanor was just as composed and confident, his presence still so full of vigor.
Ten feet away, Yue Fanchen knelt on one knee, his right hand supporting his sword against the ground, barely managing to stay upright, a trickle of blood slowly oozing from the corner of his mouth.
Defeated, Yue Fanchen had unexpectedly lost. Even having comprehended the Saint Sword, Yue Fanchen, once unbeatable, had lost just like that.
Though Han Yan's seemingly ordinary or pathetically weak sword strike had such formidable power.
Everyone was so shocked they slightly parted their lips, but no sound came forth.
