The crowd involuntarily let out gasps of astonishment.
The dwarf referee even jumped down from the desk and took a few steps forward to check the buzzer. After finding no issues, he looked up in shock towards the direction of section twelve.
There stood Fang Hong, wearing wind goggles, completely oblivious to everything around him.
"He didn't slow down,"
someone gasped.
A group of people were almost gaping, their eyes nearly falling out. If short-distance takeoffs and the Four-Wing Dance were within the competitors' understanding, Fang Hong's abilities at that moment had already surpassed their imaginations.
Even the top combat artisans, having returned from the second world to this competition, couldn't maintain such speed without slowing down in this man-made obstacle zone, could they?
They couldn't help thinking this way.
Even the chubby man was stunned, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.