Now, Ling Han had cast aside all thoughts of victory and defeat, and only wished for a satisfying battle.
Invigorating!
He continued to laugh loudly, and his Han Fists continued to attack. It was as if he wanted to exhaust all of the mystical power in his body.
However, even if he was so freakish, even if he still had the Phoenix Wings Divine Flight, his opponents were still over twenty Golden Generations, after all. As time passed, he was still wounded.
Wounds were left on his arms, lower abdomen, and thighs. Blood was gushing out, but it was as condensed like liquid gem, and did not roll down.
And this was still because of his strong physique, as well as the fact that he could disperse a portion of the attack on his own. Otherwise, this would not be something as simple as just a wound appearing. Instead, his arms, legs, or even his waist would have been severed.
But so what?