At the center of all those gazes, even Yabolun's composure wavered. His heart skipped a beat, nearly stopping altogether.
Everywhere he could see, whether on the streets or inside the buildings, the residents' gazes contained no emotion whatsoever. Their previous fervor, restlessness, madness, and anxiety had all been "washed" away, leaving their eyes nearly hollow.
Yet deep within them, he could vaguely see the Magnetic Light and Lightning Fire blazing in the Mental Ocean reflected there—including within Yabolun himself.
It felt as though the outstretched claws of some god or demon had casually erased the emotional memories of hundreds of millions, then somehow pierced through his brain and gripped his heart, exerting force in silence.
It seemed illusory and absurd, yet it was undeniably real.
From that came overwhelming terror.
At that very moment, Yabolun felt the "binding" of the Father's Robe on his body.
This outer robe, which had accompanied him for seven years, had always fit perfectly. Yet now, an external binding force was clearly acting upon him—formless, yet powerful. He even seemed to hear the rattling tremor of metal chains by his ears.
Yabolun was familiar with, even accustomed to, being "bound," because it was the very foundation upon which he cultivated and unleashed the power of chaos and destruction. Thus, even as the situation took a sharp turn for the worse, he managed to maintain a basic calm—at least outwardly.
He faced it all in silence. Yet within the Mental Ocean, which had already become the birthplace of overwhelming terror, someone could no longer hold on.
A thought suddenly sprang up, like the final startled convulsion of the dying. In a sharp, extreme burst, it struggled amid the electric fire that had lost all support, forcing aside the corresponding magnetization, piercing, and erosion before abruptly shrinking