The fire spring gurgled, winding through the pine forest, where the red glow of fire and the green pines reflected upon each other.
Qin Ming’s whispers naturally reached the ears of those nearby, and the golden-armored guards across from him felt an unease that led them to instinctively step back. They found it absurd—how could such a fierce young man still hold a hint of confusion in his gaze?
“In the final moment, his hands moved like tiger claws. That must be his signature Heavenly Light Technique, which isn’t closely related to the Tyrant’s legacy. He really hasn’t mastered it.” Qin Ming felt relieved; he realized he was dealing with a paper tiger, someone whose reputation exceeded their actual ability.
Even Li Qingyue’s three followers revealed strange expressions, wanting to ask him: Are you really analyzing and pondering this seriously?
The main reason for their bewilderment was that Qin Ming had been deceived by that great spear. When he saw the opponent’s Heavenly Light extending over two meters, he immediately tensed up, his hair standing on end.