Gu Yuexi's voice was soft, almost ethereal.
But broadcast through the arena's speakers, those few words seemed to carry a magical quality, drilling clearly into everyone's ears.
What did she mean?
What did she mean, 'Stop pretending'?
That mosquito was definitely dead... dead as a doornail. What could it possibly be pretending about?
The Great Xia audience, who had been drowning in immense grief and despair, found their minds suddenly short-circuiting.
Even the foreigners who had been wildly mocking Great Xia and celebrating their victory found their expressions frozen on their faces.
While everyone's brains were still rebooting,
inside the arena,
a faint buzzing sound suddenly emerged from the deep crater that was still emitting wisps of black smoke.
Immediately after,
under the gaze of countless disbelieving eyes, a black figure slowly rose from the bottomless pit.
It was the same familiar shape.
The same lazy posture.
