Odin lunged at him, his right fist wreathed in dense death divine power as he drove it toward Lin Qin's face.
Lin Qin raised his right hand to meet it.
Fist met palm.
Lin Qin's palm caught Odin's fist firmly. That force, powerful enough to destroy a mountain, vanished without a trace before Lin Qin, like a stone swallowed by the sea.
Odin's pupils abruptly contracted.
"Aah!"
Odin screamed and jerked his arm back. But his right arm already hung limp, its bones pulverized and its muscles and tendons reduced to mush.
Lin Qin did not pursue him. He simply stood where he was, watching Odin stagger backward.
"You-you dare?!" Odin gritted his teeth and channeled divine power to repair his right arm.
Lin Qin did not answer.
His gaze swept across the surroundings. Some of the God-level experts serving Odin had gone pale with fright, some were quietly retreating, and some were hesitating over whether to attack.
"None of you are leaving," Lin Qin said.
He spread his arms; a chaos-colored force field rapidly expanded from him in every direction. Like an enormous hemispherical dome, it enveloped the entire imperial palace.
Blackstone Space.
A radius of three thousand meters.
Everyone caught within it felt an irresistible gravitational force bearing down from above.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A string of bodies hit the ground.
Odin's expression finally changed completely.
"You-who exactly are you?!" At last, a trace of fear crept into Odin's voice.
"Lin Qin Baruch," Lin Qin said. "Wharton's older brother. Theodore's uncle."
He strode toward Odin.
With every step, the gravitational field grew stronger. Some of the Gods sprawled on the ground had begun coughing up golden blood. More and more cracks spread across their divine bodies, like porcelain on the verge of shattering.
"No-please-" someone pleaded in despair.