The street fell utterly silent.
Every gaze froze on those two fingers.
The Ghost Head Blade, wrapped in the formidable spiritual power of the late Spirit Transformation stage, stopped dead in midair.
Its edge was less than half an inch from Boss Zhao's scalp.
The fierce blade aura had even severed a few stray hairs over Boss Zhao's forehead.
Yet the blade could not advance another fraction of an inch.
The sneer on the mustached elder's face froze completely.
His eyes widened as he stared at the young man before him, dressed in an azure robe without the slightest fluctuation of spiritual power.
When had this man appeared?
How had he made no sound at all?
The mustached elder swallowed, gripped the hilt with both hands, and yanked back hard.
It would not budge.
Those two fingers seemed to hold the blade almost casually, yet their unshakable strength locked the Ghost Head Blade firmly in place.
The mustached elder's face flushed crimson, and veins bulged on his forehead.
He frantically drove the spiritual power within his body, unleashing his late Spirit Transformation stage cultivation without holding anything back.
The Ghost Head Blade hummed violently, and the formation patterns on its blade blazed with dazzling red light.
Powerful spiritual energy surged wildly along the blade toward those two fingers, trying to shred the entire hand.
Zhou Xuan stood where he was without so much as lifting his eyelids.
The instant that formidable spiritual power touched his fingers, it dispersed, vanishing without a trace.
The mustached elder panicked.
He finally realized that this seemingly ordinary mortal youth was someone he absolutely could not afford to provoke.
But he was used to throwing his weight around, and with the Taichu Immortal Vein backing him, his arrogance would not let him bow his head.