A piercing gut-wrenching scream escaped a male disciple's mouth as he pushed his hands over the large wound on his chest.
He desperately tried to stem the bleeding but eventually the loss of blood made him collapse on the ground in a state of unconsciousness.
Stab!
A silvery flash of light pierced forward, and the disciple's neck was neatly penetrated by a plain longsword that slit his throat.
Another one dead.
Xu Lu glanced down at the blood that coated her weapon and let out a heavy sigh. She staggered over to the healing pool and lowered her body inside.
She was tired.
How many days had it been?
One? Two? Or was it the final day?
She could no longer tell.
The fighting had been non-stop.
It seemed like every disciple, their mother, father, sister, brother, auntie, and family's friend had chosen to enter the arena and fight her.
Maybe it was her acts of mercy? Was it because she had let most of them live?
