warm up?
The ferocious smile on Zhao Kang's face froze in that instant.
A flicker of surprise flashed in his large, bell-like eyes, which were then consumed by a torrent of rage.
It's like a ferocious beast showing off its fangs, only to be casually asked by its prey, "Are you full?"
This is no longer a provocation, but a disregard; it is utter, pure, and utter contempt.
"You're asking for it!"
The two words were squeezed out from between Zhao Kang's teeth, their sound hoarse and metallic.
He stopped talking nonsense, because any words would seem superfluous and ridiculous at this moment.
He yanked the massive scimitar stuck in the ground with one hand. The serrated blade, wider than a door panel, drew a heavy arc in the air, and the resulting wind pressure could be felt even by people in the stands dozens of meters away.
He moved.
His massive body unleashed a speed completely disproportionate to his size, the black earth beneath his feet cracking as he charged towards Ning Liu like a runaway siege beast.
The serrated scimitar in his hand had no fancy techniques whatsoever; it was just the purest and most primitive horizontal slash.
Before the blade even arrived, the shrill sound generated by the high-speed friction of the air was already painful to the eardrums.
The jagged serrations on the blade seemed to come alive, ready to tear everything in its path to shreds.
This is Zhao Kang, nicknamed "Mad Shark." His fighting style, just like his name, is simple, brutal, and unreasonable.
He was going to use absolute power to crush this arrogant brat in front of him, sword and all!
Faced with this earth-shattering attack, Ning Liu finally made a move.
He didn't retreat, but simply took a step to the left. Such a simple step, yet it was exquisitely skillful.
The massive serrated scimitar barely grazed the hem of his clothes, the violent wind from the blade making his white robes flutter wildly.
"boom!"
The blade missed its target and struck heavily where Ning Liu had been standing, slicing a terrifying trench more than three meters long and half a meter deep into the black ground, sending rubble and dirt flying in all directions.
When his first strike missed, Zhao Kang twisted his wrist, and the huge curved blade, taking advantage of the momentum from the slash, swept upwards, transforming into a black crescent moon that once again sealed off all of Ning Liu's space to dodge.
Fast and fluid.
His strength did not become a burden; instead, it transformed into a terrifying inertia, allowing each of his moves to flow seamlessly.
However, Ning Liu responded in the same way again.
Another simple side step.
He is like a highly precise craftsman, always able to find that one and only absolutely safe spot amidst the raging storm.
His steps were small and his movements slow, yet every step he took landed precisely in the blind spots of Zhao Kang's attacks.
The hearts of the degenerates in the stands were once again in their throats.
If Ning Liu's immovable stillness previously brought them mystery and oppression, then his current swift movement was a shock akin to art.
Zhao Kang's attack was as violent as a sandstorm that swept everything, and Ning Liu was like a fallen leaf in the eye of the storm. No matter how fierce the wind was, he just moved with the wind and was never caught up or hurt in the slightest.
"Tearing Frenzy!"
With his attacks so easily neutralized, Zhao Kang was enraged.
He let out a beastly roar, unleashing all his strength without reservation. A blinding crimson light shone from the serrated scimitar in his hand, and he began to spin rapidly.
In an instant, a blood-red tornado composed of sword light formed around him! Countless sharp sword energies were flung out by centrifugal force, shooting indiscriminately in all directions.
The entire competition venue was instantly enveloped by this death storm. The ground was carved into crisscrossing trenches, emitting a piercing "hissing" sound.
"That's the Mad Shark's signature move!"
"Look! That kid's been cornered!"
"In the face of the 'Tearing Frenzy,' there's no point in trying to dodge!"
The murmurs from the stands rose again, tinged with a morbid excitement.
This is the kind of battle they want to see; this is the kind of bloodshed and madness that a hellish killing field should have.
Amidst the storm of sword energy, Ning Liu's figure became blurred and indistinct.
In the corner, a man with a scar on his chin was flushed with excitement:
"See that?! That's the power of an area-of-effect attack! No matter how unpredictable that kid's movements are, he can't possibly dodge an attack that has no blind spots from 360 degrees! He's dead!"
The moment the words were spoken, a sudden change occurred in the scene.
The raging storm of blood-red sword energy suddenly paused.
Immediately afterwards, a clear and melodious sword cry seemed to pierce through layers of noise, resounding clearly in everyone's ears.
A white light shone from the eye of the storm.
It wasn't a blinding light, but a soft, pure white that seemed capable of washing away all filth.
The next moment, the white light suddenly surged, transforming into a towering sword shadow that slashed out from inside the blood-red tornado!
"puff--"
It sounded like cloth being torn by a sharp blade.
The swirling, violent, and arrogant crimson storm, like a punctured balloon, instantly froze and disintegrated. The countless sword energies vanished without a trace.
Zhao Kang's figure reappeared.
He remained in a spinning position, his massive scimitar still held in mid-air, his expression frozen in peak arrogance and ferocity.
The entire room fell silent.
Everyone held their breath, not understanding what was happening.
Ning Liu appeared three steps behind Zhao Kang. He slowly sheathed his sword, his white robes still pristine. He didn't even glance back.
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