Terrible Thought

"Hmm?"

Jonah Shaw and the others looked over in unison.

Channing Lestrange stood up slowly and said softly, "It was the path of martial arts that was the enemy of the world. He was the enemy of the world. He was crazy and stunning. I was not as bold as him. Therefore, even though I had entered the supreme pinnacle realm, I was not able to escape the fate of being sealed in ice."

Channing had personally said that he was sealed in ice as a loser.

Braydon Neal seemed to have sensed something. He frowned and pressed Channing's shoulder. "Channing, don't do anything rash!" he said softly.

"I have no friends now. Now that I am in the Northern Army, I will do something for the Northern Army!"

Channing held the wine bottle and downed it in one gulp.

"The martial artists of the aristocratic families are gathered in that area," the cunning little fool pointed to the southeast of the ring venue and said.

"Luke, lend me your cold sword!"