Below the arena.
Lu Shaohua crashed heavily to the ground, the dull thud kicking up a cloud of dust.
He lay curled in a ball, the front of his robes already dyed crimson with the blood he had coughed up. A fresh trickle of blood stained the corner of his mouth.
He slowly raised his head and gazed blankly at the imposing figure on the stage, his eyes filled with shock and bewilderment.
He had lost.
He had lost to a new disciple who had been in the sect for less than a year.
The realization struck him like a thunderbolt, leaving him momentarily dazed. 'It all feels like an absurd dream.'
His titles—third on the Hidden Dragon List, the top prodigy of Jintai Prefecture's younger generation—all his past glories seemed like a joke at this moment.
Just then, several figures rushed over. They were disciples from Qingxu Peak.
They reached out to help Lu Shaohua up. "Senior Brother Lu, are you all right?"
Lu Shaohua raised a hand, gently pushing away their outstretched arms.
