Long-Winded Trash, All of You!

A middle-aged steward stepped forward, his face livid, pointing at Little Red with a trembling finger. "Y-You... Who are you? Do you know where this is?!"

Little Red did not answer.

But Little Red raised his right arm.

His five fingers spread, palm aimed at the steward. The Soul Tool Array in his palm lit up with a blinding white light, and the charging whine was sharp enough to tear through eardrums.

The steward's face instantly turned white—whiter than his clothes. His feet seemed nailed to the ground, unable to move.

The pressure of a rank ninety-seven Title Douluo bore down on his shoulders like a mountain, leaving him unable to even raise a finger.

Mu Ye could not be bothered to waste words on this shameless bunch.

Once all the bystanders had fled, Little Red fully raised his right arm, aiming his palm at the pale-faced stewards ahead.

The Soul Tool Array's glow shifted from incandescent to blazing white, while its charging sound changed from a shrill whine into a roar.

Boom—!

A blazing white beam erupted from his palm, as thick as a water barrel and hot enough to warp the air, blasting straight at the stewards. Wherever it passed, it gouged a deep trench through the bluestone ground. The stones along the edges melted into glassy slag under the heat, hissing sharply.

The stewards did not even have time to scream.

The beam swallowed them, vaporizing their bodies in one hundredth of a second. Clothes, flesh, bones—everything became nothing beneath that blazing white light. Only several scorched footprints remained on the ground, proving that living people had once stood there.

The beam did not lose any momentum. It blasted through the ceremonial archway, shattered the outer wall of the main hall, and blew a hole more than