"…"
Feng Zhiyu fell silent.
He leaned back in his chair, his long fingers unconsciously tracing the patterns on the armrest. A deep sense of helplessness flashed in his eyes.
"What am I to do…"
He muttered to himself, "Am I really going to have to surrender the number one spot before I graduate? I can't accept this."
None of the Ninth-level Martial Artists present could answer his question.
They all knew that this year's Warband Ranking Tournament might be the toughest battle the Fearless Warband had faced in thousands of years.
The low point in the Fearless Warband's resource supply was about to pass.
Word had already come from the legendary upperclassmen fighting on the Battlefield of Ten Thousand Races. At most, it would take another century to re-establish a stable resource channel.
If they could defend their number one title during this most difficult time, the name "Fearless" would shine brighter than any promotion or special treatment.
