Yang Shen had run out of new tricks with his Yin Yang Whip. The execution of his attacks today had been perfect. Some might even say that he’d gone beyond his limits. Despite all that, he still wasn’t able to penetrate the momentum created by his opponent’s sword. Yang Shen was feeling quite aggrieved. He’d always been incredibly confident in his whip. Even though it wasn’t sufficient to defeat the strongest of foremost geniuses, he was certain that he could at least put up a decent fight. It seemed that all this had been his own wishful thinking. How could he aim to challenge the unrivaled geniuses in the Ranking of Young Lords when he couldn’t even handle a mere cultivator that had come from the secular world? He’d been too naive.

The audience could easily tell that Yang Shen was only hanging by a thread. The disapproving jeers were getting louder by the minute. The Veluriyam Capital audience was actually quite fair. The fact that he was a true disciple of Saint Peafowl Mountain didn’t mean that...