A Half-step Great Saint Against a Great Saint? A Miracle!

"Such gall!" A cold shout rang out from the tavern, and a yellow-clad figure swept out from within.

A vast, boundless Great Saint pressure crushed down upon Ye Xiwen like the weight of a thousand jun, enough to directly crush a Half-step Great Saint to death.

It stirred up limitless astral winds that made Ye Xiwen's robes snap and crackle. The winds were like blades, scraping against his skin until it actually gave off ringing clangs like metal striking iron.

No one knew whether the astral winds were more terrifying, or Ye Xiwen's skin was harder.

Ye Xiwen looked up. That boundless Great Saint pressure had no great effect on him at all. To martial artists below the Great Saint Realm, such Great Saint might could rob them of their fighting spirit. It was like a creature at the bottom of the food chain encountering one at its peak—there was nothing they could do but tremble, kneel, and obediently await death.

But that was only for ordinary people. Ye Xiwen had long completed his soul's transformation; there was no essential difference between him and a Great Saint anymore. The sole difference was one of quantity.

Therefore, this pressure—the pressure that crushed the soul—had no effect on him.

Before Ye Xiwen's eyes, a yellow-robed young man strode forth with the bearing of a dragon and tiger. Frost covered his handsome face, killing intent shone in his eyes, and his gaze locked onto Ye Xiwen.

The boundless pressure bore down, growing increasingly heavy as though it intended to crush Ye Xiwen. Yet Ye Xiwen merely allowed heaven and earth to change color, his expression remaining unmoved.

Senior Brother Lao, the yellow-robed young man, merely sneered again and again. "Such gall. You are arrogant beyond measure!"

His aura erupted in full, revealing the