My Dear Father, Where Do You Think You're Going?

That Dragon Might was far beyond anything Di Tian could compare to.

Di Tian's Dragon Might was the intimidation of a Soul Beast overlord toward all living things; what Jin Tianming radiated was the pressure of an absolute superior looking down upon all existence, the innate suppression of lower life-forms by the apex of the food chain.

Ten thousand years ago, Niu Tian and Titan might have feared it, but now they were divine officials. Even if their cultivation had fallen back to that of Limit Douluo, they would never have taken Di Tian seriously.

Yet when Jin Tianming's Dragon Might echoed through the Clear Sky Sect's valley, every cell in their bodies trembled. The fear that seeped into their very bones was utterly impossible to suppress.

It was an instinct carved into a creature's genes—reverence and submission toward the apex of the food chain.

They were clearly divine officials. By all reason, they should not have been suppressed by such power, yet the reality was that they did not even have the strength to lift a hand.

"I hope you have what it takes to make me take this seriously."

Jin Tianming's voice was as cold as iron. The aura erupting from his body grew ever more terrifying, and he gripped the golden spear tightly in his hand. The cold gleam at its tip reflected his contemptuous gaze, as though he were looking at two insignificant ants.

In the distance, Wang Dong'er looked at Black and Bai Yu, whose auras had withered as though they could collapse at any moment. She hurriedly took several bottles of high-grade pills from her Soul Tool, intending to give them to the pair to restore their Soul Power, but Black raised a hand and stopped her.

"It's useless." Black's voice carried a hint