Most people thought that Chen Yun would lose badly.
Even if we win, it will be a pyrrhic victory.
In other words, if he didn't win, if Chen Yun was really a powerful being in the eighth level, he might be able to hold on for a while longer before dying.
Go up to the competition stage.
Chen Yun and Wan Huatong stood facing each other.
"Boy, we don't need a referee for today's competition."
Wan Huatong spoke in a sinister tone.
"If you don't think it's necessary, I don't mind." Chen Yun said with a smile, "But remember, if you die, it's your own fault."
"Haha, fine. I asked for my own death, and you deserve it too!" Wan Huatong took a step forward, and the majestic aura of his body spread out, creating ripples in the air. "Originally, I wanted to give the Sect Master a favor and spare your life, but now it seems that's no longer necessary."
"No, you must not give the Sect Master face." Chen Yun said calmly, "Let's fight as we should. If I lose, it's because I'm truly inferior in skill. If you give in, this fight will be meaningless."
"That's exactly what I meant."
Wan Huatong drew out the long sword from his waist with a clang, then raised his hand and pointed the tip of the sword at Chen Yun.
"Draw your knife."
"No, no, there's no need to draw my sword to deal with you." Chen Yun said with a smile, "But if you insist, I can use a flying knife."
"You can also throw knives?" Wan Huatong narrowed his eyes.
"I know a little bit. I just learned it during the competition a few days ago, and I just happened to use it today."
As Chen Yun spoke, a flying knife came out of his sleeve.
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