On the throne, Xue Ye's expression changed.
Though he wasn't a Soul Master, as an emperor, his senses were just as keen.
The instant that aura appeared, he felt as though the entire Council Hall were about to collapse.
The throne beneath him was groaning.
The Coiled Dragon Gold Pillars supporting the hall were trembling.
He felt as though an invisible hand had seized his heart in a crushing grip.
Even breathing had become difficult.
Beside him, Xue Qinghe's pretty face had gone deathly pale, and her delicate body swayed as if she might fall.
She had once again felt the same helplessness she'd experienced that day when facing Chen Xuan.
It was absolute crushing pressure at the level of life itself.
"Now, can we have a proper discussion?"
Chen Xuan spoke.
His voice was still calm.
Yet in the deathly silent hall, it sounded like a divine decree.
That terrifying aura had come and gone in an instant.
The moment Chen Xuan finished speaking, it vanished without a trace.
The hall returned to calm.
But Xue Ye's heart would never be calm again.
He looked at the young man standing below, straight as a pine, and his eyes brimmed with shock.
For the first time in his life, he had felt the threat of death so vividly.
He had no doubt that if the other man wished it, a single thought would turn him—and this entire palace—into dust.
He understood.
Why Ning Fengzhi had bowed his head.
Why Sword Douluo had knelt.
Because the ones they faced weren't mortal men at all.
But... gods!
After a long while,
Xue Ye slowly rose from the throne.
He descended the steps and came before Chen Xuan.
Then, under the horrified gazes of Xue Qinghe and the Soul Douluo, he bowed deeply