Upon hearing Zhao Xuanqi's words, an incredibly fierce and sharp glint erupted from Hua Jingcheng's eyes.
In an instant, a terrifying aura of killing intent erupted from his body. Dark, ominous clouds enveloped the entire arena and began to spread outward. Countless black feathers drifted down slowly, each one's edge so sharp it seemed capable of slicing through space itself.
The audience around the arena felt a palpable threat, a suffocating pressure.
The many Martial Arts Experts present felt it even more deeply. This aura was vastly different from the auras produced by the Martial Dao of the Divine Land.
The Martial Dao of the Divine Land was like a hundred flowers blooming; to a certain extent, killing power was not its primary pursuit.
It was about mastering the body, transcending the self, strengthening flesh and blood, and rising above the mundane. It integrated principles into Fist Techniques; what one threw was not a punch, but a story, a personality, a Dao.
