No one saw how the Thin black-clothed man, transformed into a frenzied beast, launched his attack.
Nor did anyone see how Xu Yi had defended against that earth-shattering blow.
"It cracked! It cracked! The West Pole Ice Layer actually cracked!"
Someone shouted. Every eye turned toward the ice. A feathery white fissure had appeared on the blue-green ice.
And that spot was exactly where the battle had taken place.
At nearly the same moment, the same three words surfaced in everyone's minds: impossible!
The West Pole Mystic Ice had never cracked since time immemorial. No matter what method one used, in all these thousands of years, no one had ever been heard to take even a scrap of ice from it.
Yet now, the West Pole Mystic Ice had developed a tiny crack beneath that terrifying blow.
Though that thread of a crack was still a hundred and eight thousand miles from shattering the West Pole Mystic Ice,
that alone was enough to show just how astonishing the power of the Thin black-clothed man's earlier strike had been.
As this thought crossed their minds, an even more terrifying one arose: the West Pole Mystic Ice had cracked, so how had this man emerged without a single scratch?
The sheer impossibility of it all threatened to burst their heads.
And the most astonished of them all was the Thin black-clothed man. He knew better than anyone that once he went berserk, his secret art—one that fused with his Demon Devil Incarnation—made his body nearly invincible.
Within the Yang Venerable realm, anyone who dared let him get close was almost certain to fall in a single exchange.
Yet in that fight just now, his opponent had taken his blow full on and come away completely unharmed. It was utterly beyond his comprehension.