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The blood that was drawn from Xing Yu's body glowed red, almost as though it were burning. It released a tremendous aura, and each drop of blood was even more resplendent than a ruby.
Howling winds blew as fist and spear clashed once more. The sky rumbled.
The two young cultivators passed each other in the air, shining with radiant light and runes. They turned and faced each other, their arms drawn back.
"He survived one of Xing Yu's punches without dying—only his palms are bloody!" one spectator shouted.
Everyone could see that there was blood on the haft of the spear.
The drops of blood fell. Fang Yi looked down at his palms.
"Blocking one of Xing Yu's blows is impressive enough. His competitor is certainly...
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