"Yan'er!"
Upon seeing Zheng Yan's miserable state, Zheng Jinan was suddenly struck by terror and could no longer keep seated.
At this moment, Zheng Yan's mouth was full of blood foam, and he lay on the ground like a lump of mud, staring at the distant Gu Chen with eyes filled with disbelief.
Who was he? A core disciple of the Sunset Sword Sect, ranked twelfth on the Star Rankings, beaten by an unknown little thief?
And it was done so dominantly, so swiftly, that he was defeated in just one encounter.
Zheng Yan was a person who cared greatly about face, just like Zheng Jinan. Today, in such a setting, in front of so many people and his fellow disciples, being taught such a harsh lesson, Zheng Yan felt his cheeks burning hot, wishing he could find a crevice in the ground to crawl into.
The physical injuries, along with the mental torture in his heart, nearly became too much for Zheng Yan to bear, as he lay there rolling his eyes back.
"Yan'er!"