Zhao Wuji's expression changed drastically. His knees bent slightly against his will, and beads of sweat the size of beans seeped from his forehead.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that a young man at the middle True Lord stage could suppress him, a cultivator at the True Lord peak, so completely with nothing more than the pressure radiating from his domain.
Chen Changqing withdrew his pressure, and the terrifying sense of oppression in the hall vanished instantly.
Zhao Wuji staggered half a step back, his chest heaving violently. The back of his robes was already soaked with cold sweat.
Chen Changqing spoke calmly. His voice was quiet, yet every word reached everyone's ears clearly.
"Elder Zhao, I appreciate your concern for Shushan's reputation."
"But whether others look down on Shushan doesn't depend on making concessions to preserve peace. It depends on whether the sword in our hands is hard enough."
"As for making too many enemies..."
Chen Changqing rose, sweeping his gaze over everyone present.
"If enemies invade, we need only slaughter them to the last."
"If Shushan must compromise with others for the sake of some so-called greater good, then we might as well abandon our position as the leader of the righteous path."
His supremely domineering words echoed through the hall.
Zhao Wuji's face was pale. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he could only lower his head and bow deeply.
"You are right to rebuke me, Holy Son. My outlook was too narrow."
The other Peak Masters seated there were shaken to their cores. The last traces of disdain vanished entirely from their eyes as they looked at Chen Changqing, replaced by profound awe.
This young Holy Son not only had a terrifyingly powerful backing, but his own strength and methods were