Outside the enclosure.
Near Arena Seven.
Zhao Yuman watched Yang Jing defeat his opponent in three moves, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"So he can hold his own," she muttered under her breath.
Yang Jing was a Dark Energy Martial Artist, after all.
The examiners had deliberately separated the Dark Energy Martial Artists, arranging for them to face mostly Bright Energy opponents in the early stages. There was nothing special about winning.
In Zhao Yuman's eyes, when it came to true strength, this Yang Jing probably didn't even rank among Dark Energy Martial Artists. Compared to Shen Lie, he was far, far behind.
But even so, watching Yang Jing steadily advance, Zhao Yuman felt an inexplicable irritation welling up inside her.
The stronger and better Yang Jing performed, the more it made her own past choice seem blind and foolish.
