Li Ling's smarmy grin froze for the barest heartbeat, then the spike finished its job.
A wet and cruel sound carried across the arena as it pierced clean through him, tailbone to mouth, lifting him like a skewered offering upon an altar.
For a moment, nobody reacted, because none of theirs minds accepted it.
But right after that, the entire stadium detonated dramatically.
"What—?!"
"HE—!"
"Impossible!!"
The lower stands surged to their feet like a monolith, disbelief sweeping through them so violently that even the most seasoned disciples forgot to jeer, to breathe, and even to clap.
All that was left for them to do was leave their eyes wide open like copper bells, their throats dry as if dehydrated, and their faces pale as if they had just seen a ghost.
The middle layer spectators were worse, because they had been watching the entire tournament with the quiet certainty that Li Ling was untouchable, that even if he played with opponents, the end was always the same.
