The dimly lit training hall hummed with the tireless spinning of two ventilation fans.
Sunlight streamed in through the gaps of the fan blades, casting ever-changing patterns of shadow and light against the snow-white walls.
The expressions of the students inside the room as they watched the two figures standing back-to-back on the sparring platform were as if they'd eaten shit—The reversal that had just occurred was so swift that even now they couldn't quite grasp what had happened.
Standing behind Tan Yingwei, Shao Zifeng gasped for breath, sweat continually sliding down his cheeks. That last slash, unleashed with all his might, had drained the last of his strength, and now his right hand, which held the knife, trembled slightly, as if the blade weighed a ton.
Plip!
A crimson Blood Bead slipped from the quivering knife's point, splashing a crystalline spray of blood on the platform.
