This wasn't over yet.
That terrifying pressure continued.
"Urgh... ah..."
The seven of them were like fish out of water, mouths wide open as they tried to scream, only to find the air in their lungs forcibly squeezed out, leaving them unable to make a sound.
Their eyeballs bulged, bloodshot.
Their ornate team uniforms began to tear apart.
Crack—
The hard stone floor of the arena split open, centered on those seven people.
Fine cracks spread like a spiderweb, reaching all the way to Han Yuchen's feet before stopping.
And Han Yuchen still maintained that pose, one hand in his pocket and one finger pressing down.
His expression did not change in the slightest.
He still looked drowsy and languid, as if he had not fully woken up.
"Too weak."
Han Yuchen shook his head and withdrew his index finger.
The pressure vanished abruptly.
But not one of the seven people on the ground could move anymore.
Their eyes had rolled back, foam spilled from their mouths, and their bodies still twitched unconsciously.
It was a shock reaction caused by a severe impact to their nervous systems.
Silence.
A deathly silence.
The Great Soul Arena, which had been boiling with excitement moments ago, was now so quiet that even a pin dropping could be heard.
Hundreds of thousands of spectators gaped, their jaws nearly hitting their feet.
What had happened?
Had that... been an illusion?
"Han Yuchen seems even stronger now. Didn't everyone say he took some kind of powerful potion before?"
"He only moved one finger!"
Even the well-informed referee stood rooted to the spot like a wooden post, forgetting to blow the whistle in his hand.
He had overseen thousands of soul battles and seen all kinds of instant defeats.
But he had never seen anything like this!