It was an indescribable, terrifying pressure.
It was not suppression from Soul Power, but a tremor that arose from the depths of the soul.
Terror Knight Scott's body, originally as immovable as a boulder, swayed violently under this sudden mental storm.
The Skeleton Warhorse beneath him, specially modified to withstand the attacks of a Soul Sage, let out a shrill neigh. Its four legs went weak, and it nearly collapsed to its knees!
"You..."
Scott's voice remained cold, but this time, it carried a trace of poorly concealed shock and suspicion.
He could not see through the young man before him.
He clearly could not sense any particularly powerful Soul Power fluctuations, yet the indifference and majesty in those black eyes made even him—a knight who had guarded the gates of the City of Slaughter for years and seen countless desperadoes and powerful figures—feel an urge to bow in worship!
"Do you still want to continue?"
Han Yuchen stood with his hands behind his back. He had not even stopped walking, still maintaining the posture of moving forward.
It felt as though an emperor were inspecting his own territory, while this Terror Knight, feared even by Soul Douluos, was merely a guard watching the gate.
Scott tightened his grip on his spear, his eyes beneath the Mask fixed on Han Yuchen.
In the end, he slowly lowered his spear and stepped aside.
"This place welcomes neither the weak nor rejects the mad," Scott said coldly, his voice calm once more. "I hope your bones are as hard as your words."
"We'll see."
Han Yuchen chuckled and strode through the black iron gates that symbolized the entrance to hell with Leng Yuebai.
Beyond the iron gates lay a long, dim passageway.
There was no sunlight here, only eerie green Ghost