When Zhou Run’s hoarse declaration, "I concede," echoed throughout the arena via the amplification Array, and the referee system’s cold, electronic voice announced the final victor, the entire stadium—after a brief, suffocating silence—was completely drowned in a tidal wave of cheers.
Qin Feng’s name swept through every inch of the space like a tempest.
Cries of "monster" echoed to the heavens.
Yet, the man at the center of the storm, Qin Feng himself, appeared exceptionally calm.
Under the gazes of the entire crowd, he gave a slight nod toward the edge of the ring, where Zhou Run was being lifted onto a stretcher by medical robots. It was a gesture of respect.
It was both the victor’s respect for the vanquished and an acknowledgment of a worthy opponent.
Then, under the countless gazes of the crowd—a mixture of awe, adoration, and shock—he turned and walked off the final battle platform, a stage that now shone brightly for him alone.
There were no arms raised in victory, no passionate roars, and certainly no showboating lap around the arena.
When his figure reappeared in the stands and he returned to the section where his friends were, a volcanic eruption of enthusiasm awaited him.
"Old Qin!"
With a deafening roar, Xiong Yanfu’s towering frame was the first to rush forward. He threw open his thick arms and gave Qin Feng a solid, bone-crushing bear hug!
"I knew it! I knew you could do it! Champion!"
Xiong Yanfu’s large hands, like massive fans, slapped hard against Qin Feng’s back, creating muffled THUDS that revealed his unbridled, wild excitement.
"Hahaha! Brother Qin! You were really holding back! Three Hundred and Sixty Acupoints Great Perfection!"
Lei Meng pushed his way forward too, his face flushed red as he excitedly grabbed Qin Feng’s arm and shook it vigorously.
"Well done."
Tiemu’s words were as concise as ever.
He just walked up and gave Qin Feng a heavy punch on the shoulder with a hand as hard as iron, but his deep eyes glinted with an incredibly sincere light.
Shi Potian stood to the side, a smile on his face, and offered his congratulations.
He looked at Qin Feng, who was surrounded by the other three, with not a hint of surprise in his eyes—only the pure joy of seeing a close friend achieve something great.
When Qin Feng’s gaze met his, Shi Potian simply gave a slight nod. Everything was understood without a word.
"I knew you could do it."
Qin Feng smiled.
However, amid this scene of jubilation and joy, one person seemed completely out of place.
Shi Dang.
He sat not far away, motionless, like a silent statue.
He didn’t cheer, didn’t offer congratulations, and didn’t even look in their direction.
His gaze remained locked on the large central screen, which was replaying the battle footage over and over: Qin Feng overwhelmingly crushing Zhou Run.
His expression was incredibly complex.
Amid his pallor was a sickly flush, the result of Spiritual Energy fluctuations caused by extreme shock and resentment.
Those eyes of his, which always held a hint of gloom and pride, were now filled with nothing but boundless horror and... a sliver of shock that even he was unwilling to admit.
The roaring tide of praise from the crowd, the talk of a "monster," a "legend," and "Great Perfection in forty years," felt like red-hot steel needles stabbing into his ears.
An unprecedented storm was raging in his mind.
’How... how can he be this strong?!’
’Three Hundred and Sixty Acupoints Great Perfection... He actually did it... in only forty years...’
At that moment, Shi Dang’s mind was spinning at an unprecedented, frantic pace.
He was no longer a mere spectator. He was putting himself on the battlefield from moments ago.
He began to calculate frantically.
’A Sixth-level Martial Artist and a Fifth-level Martial Artist are on completely different planes of existence.’
’Mental Power will become the new, decisive force!’
’If I could break through to become a Sixth-Level Soaring Martial Artist right now and Control Mental Power to interfere with reality, could I defeat Qin Feng?!’
However... when his gaze fell upon the screen again, when he saw the image of Qin Feng striking like a black bolt of lightning, his A Point of Cold Light completely shattering all of Zhou Run’s will to resist...
...when he saw the scene where the storm of Qin Feng’s spear shadows completely suppressed Zhou Run—who was also at the Great Perfection stage—from beginning to end, leaving him powerless to retaliate...
...that tiny flicker of hope that had just ignited within him was instantly doused by a bucket of ice-cold water laced with despair.
’It’s useless...’
’Even if I broke through to the sixth level, my chances of winning against Qin Feng... would still be slim.’
’The gap in our vitality indexes is too vast.’
’Not unless my Mental Power’s intensity could far surpass Qin Feng’s, and I mastered several Fourth-level Killing Techniques. But after cultivating a Fourth-level Killing Technique for ten years, one would only be at the introductory stage.’
’And in ten years, how much stronger will Qin Feng have become?’
A deep sense of powerlessness washed over Shi Dang like a tide.
He had always seen Qin Feng as a target he had to surpass—a "lucky bastard" who, deep down, he never truly respected, believing he had only gotten ahead through some fluke of fate.
He had believed that as long as he reached a higher realm, as long as he stepped into the fifth level, he could easily crush this so-called "close friend" under his heel.
But today, reality had given him the loudest, most brutal slap in the face.
But what surged into Shi Dang’s heart after this extreme frustration and powerlessness was not surrender or resignation.
It was a far more twisted, far more scorching flame!