Two figures clashed amidst the ruins, bursts of cold light striking against Konstantin's iron fist, producing crisp, sharp sounds.
Konstantin's physical strength was no less terrifying than the genetically modified monster-like physique of Ning Fan. Particularly because Konstantin personally despised the use of weapons, his deep trust in his own body forged it into something unmatched through relentless training!
Ning Fan's clothes were thoroughly soaked with sweat, steam rising from his head in bursts. His skin was flushed red, as though his blood were boiling.
It was not mere appearance—his Pure Yang Blood was indeed boiling, his meridians surging, and every single cell in his body yearned for combat.
It was as if he were addicted to battle, as if battle itself had become his very essence. Ning Fan swung the Black Sword in his hand, charging unrelentingly at Konstantin, the madness in his eyes growing deeper.
"Madman! You're nothing but a madman!"
