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A deafening blast echoed through the air.
The blood-red curved longsword wielded by the black-armored warrior had severed the silver dragon's
head in half.
The shockwave generated by their collision swept out in all directions like a tidal wave, blowing up
debris in its path.
The crowd was forced to retreat by the gusting wind, struggling to keep their eyes open.
Moments later, after the chaos subsided, a transformation had already taken place on the battlefield.
On the left, Vincent held his silver spear with a solemn expression, his clothes torn. His hand that was
gripping his spear trembled slightly.
On the right, Marco stood in silence. The eerie red glow of his Demon blade faded as he sheathed it
slowly.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThey stood 30 feet apart, gazing at each other across the field without uttering a word. It seemed as if
time had frozen.
"What happened? Who won?" The crowd exchanged looks of confusion.
That final blow had been too quick for ordinary martial artists to follow. They only saw a flash of light,
followed by a thunderous explosion and a surging shockwave.
When they finally returned to their senses, the battle had already ended, and they couldn't tell who had
emerged victorious.
"Why aren't they moving? Did Vincent win?" Ruby asked curiously.
"Seems like it." Miles nodded.
"Vincent's last strike was incredible. That brat couldn't possibly have withstood it. He might look
unharmed, but he must be seriously injured and will collapse soon!"
"That's great!" Ruby was overjoyed. "As expected of the legendary Spearhawk. Let's see if that brat still
dares to act haughtily after this battle!"
The outcome of this battle not only concerned Vincent's reputation but also represented the nation's
dignity. If Vincent won, it would undoubtedly mark a remarkable achievement.
Despite their optimism, Crystal frowned slightly, appearing solemn.
If her eyes hadn't failed her, during that final strike, it had been the black-armored warrior who severed
the silver dragon head.
Hey! You enemy bootlicker!" Right then, Ruby shifted her attention to Dustin.
"Didn't you claim that the brat would win? What do you have to say for yourself now?"
"The outcome has been decided. There's nothing more to say," Dustin replied indifferently.
"Hmph! So, you're finally at a loss for words? Realized you're in the wrong, did you? Own up to your
mistakes next time. Don't constantly submit to others. It's embarrassing," Ruby said with a smirk.
Just as she finished her sentence, Vincent's silver spear suddenly snapped into two pieces. The
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmspearhead clattered to the ground, igniting a few embers.
Following that, a gaping hole materialized on his shirt. Beneath his shirt, on his chest, a red laceration
appeared.
At first, the laceration was as thin as a strand of hair, but within moments, it expanded into a horrifying
gash, unleashing a torrent of blood.
Vincent's body convulsed. Finally reaching his limits, he expelled a mouthful of blood. Unsteady on his
feet, he eventually collapsed to the ground.
Despite his struggles to rise, he remained on the ground. His face turned pale, and he was drenched in
sweat.
The surroundings plunged into silence as the crowd witnessed the scene before them. They were
dumbfounded, finding it hard to believe. No one expected Vincent to suffer such a devastating defeat.
"How is this possible? Spearhawk lost?"
"No! It can't be! Vincent has unparalleled spear techniques. How could he lose to that brat?"
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