Thud.
Another one falls.
The faces of the disciples from Jongnam have turned pale.
"Six."
Six have fallen.
In total, six! Jongnam's second disciple has been defeated by one of the three great disciples.
It was an overwhelming defeat, with not even a single strike exchanged.
But what truly terrified the disciples of Jongnam was not the defeat itself.
The thought that they might not achieve even a single victory before this battle ends filled them with dread.
"Annihilated? By just one of the three great disciples?" Their fingertips tingle.
Cold sweat trickles down their backs.
Their vision darkens, and their legs weaken.
Who among them does not understand how great a disgrace this is? If, by some rare chance, such a thing were to happen, the news would spread throughout the world faster than words could convey.
For the Volcano, it would be an unparalleled glory.
And for Jongnam, it would be an everlasting humiliation that would never fade, even after generations! The history of this absurd disgrace is being written right here, by none other than their own hands.
Realizing this, the disciples of Jongnam felt fear beyond mere pressure.
"Next!" And the most terrifying, merciless voice echoed in their ears.
No one stepped forward.
They were not fools.
One or two victories could be won by luck.