Wushan Mountain, the Bluestone Arena.
As Zhang Daoming conceded defeat and departed, the heart-stopping battle on Wushan Mountain came to a close.
In the center of the dilapidated arena, Chen Sheng slowly sheathed his saber.
His dark robes were stained with dust and blood, but it did nothing to diminish his tall, ramrod-straight posture, firm as a pine.
His calm gaze swept over the crowd: the dying Shanxin; the severed-armed, gravely injured, and faintly breathing Dharma Treasury; Chen Yanling, with both arms broken and a deathly pale face; and the unconscious Lu Xuanzhou, Lu Maozhi, and Li Xuance, their fates uncertain...
Finally, his gaze landed on the host, Elder Liang Jingxing of Qingfeng Temple.
"Elder Liang, what now?"
"You've won this battle."
Liang Jingxing glanced at the heroes below the stage.
In this battle, Chen Sheng had fought one against seven, displaying an air of absolute invincibility.
