"Then kill me." Lu Xingkong stepped forward and stood in front of Song Gudú.
That step was like a solitary peak flying down from the heavens, like a mountain standing over an abyss, like a drawn sword, like a raised saber.
A storm was coming, and the whole tower stirred.
When experts collided, neither side had truly made a move yet—not even showing the slightest murderous intent.
And yet, that invisible pressure, the fierce collision between those two currents of energy, had already tightened the muscles of everyone nearby and made their hair stand on end. It even sent their blood surging and boiling through their bodies. With the slightest mishap, there would be a muffled bang, followed by a bloody explosion as flesh was torn into shreds.
Some killed with swords!
Some killed with energy!
Some killed with thought!
With a single thought, a person could be blown to pieces. Elegant yet ghastly, like divine punishment.
Lu Xingkong was tall and imposing, a head taller than Song Gudú, with a frame roughly a size larger.
Lu Xingkong's expression was calm, revealing none of the emotions roiling within him at that moment.
But the bloodlust forged through countless life-and-death battles, the killing intent honed by severing the heads of countless enemy generals, and the domineering aura of commanding thousands upon thousands of troops to break formations and slay enemies—all these things had fused with his body. With nothing more than a simple step forward, they surged out like armies shifting formation and warhorses galloping, rolling toward the enemy.
The Supervision Department elites standing behind Song Gudú and facing Lu Xingkong, along with some civil and military officials whose cultivation was insufficient, were forced back by that aura. Involuntarily, they took a step backward.
The might of a single step could