The square before the Pope's Palace was terrifyingly silent.
Even the wind seemed frozen, and the folds of the hanging banners remained stiff and motionless.
Thousands of soul masters stood there, yet not one dared breathe loudly. What had just happened had surpassed the limits of their understanding.
Pope Bibi Dong, a level ninety-eight peak Douluo and wielder of Twin Martial Souls, had actually been forced back by a youth.
Even if it was only three steps, even if only a trace of blood had seeped from the corner of her mouth.
It was still a humiliation Spirit Hall had never suffered since its founding.
Han Yuchen stood where he was, lightly rubbing his left wrist with his right hand.
His movements looked casual, as if he had merely finished warming up. Only Leng Yuebai, who stood closest to him, could see the faint tremor in his fingertips.
The God-tier passive skill "Restraint" came at the cost of his own vitality, energy, and spirit when reflecting damage.
That strike had nearly drained Han Yuchen's Soul Power in an instant. His dantian was empty now, like a well that had been completely pumped dry.
Yet that familiar calm smile still hung on his face.
There was even a touch of laziness in it, as though the move that had sent the Pope flying was not some earth-shaking divine skill, but merely a casual swat at an annoying fly.
Leng Yuebai retreated to a spot three steps from his side. It was close enough for her to support him at any moment, yet far enough not to interfere with his movements.
Her white dress remained spotless, while the Star Radiance Heavenly Silk drifted slowly at her side like a living Star River.
But a careful observer would notice that her breathing was