Lin Qiu's Terrifying Pressure! Chen Xin's Shock! Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's Sensation!

"This... how is this possible?"

These four guards were the elite of the sect; how could they have knelt before even touching the other party?

Lin Qiu stepped forward, walking slowly toward Ning Rongrong.

Every step he took felt as if he were treading upon the very tip of her heart.

"You... don't come any closer!"

Ning Rongrong finally panicked, subconsciously retreating two steps, her voice trembling slightly. "I am the eldest young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect! My father is Ning Fengzhi! If you dare to touch me..."

"The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect?"

Lin Qiu walked up to her, looking down at this spoiled little princess with no trace of awe in his eyes, only a faint indifference.

"Don't talk about you; even if Chen Xin the Sword Douluo and Gu Rong were here in person, they would not dare to be so presumptuous in Martial Soul City."

He reached out his hand, his movement appearing slow but actually as fast as lightning, grabbing Ning Rongrong by the back of her neck.

It was just like picking up a disobedient kitten.

"Perfect, the banquet is tomorrow."

"Since the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is so 'hospitable,' then you, their eldest young lady, shall come with me to Martial Soul Hall as a guest."

Lin Qiu had thought it through thoroughly.

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was wealthier than an entire nation and occupied a significant position in the future landscape.

Since this little girl had thrown herself into the line of fire, it would be a pity not to make use of her.

He would take this opportunity to strike a blow at Ning Fengzhi, letting him understand that the current Martial Soul Hall was no longer an entity they could test at will.

"Let me go! You bastard! I'm going to tell my father!"

Ning Rongrong struggled desperately, but under Lin Qiu's iron-clamp grip, her strength was negligible.

Lin Qiu couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her clamoring. Carrying her, his figure flickered, instantly transforming into a streak of golden light as he sped toward the Pope Palace.

He left behind only a crowd of dumbfounded passersby and four guards kneeling on the ground, unable to move.

Half an hour later.

Inside the top floor of the most luxurious Platinum Hotel in Martial Soul City.

This place had been booked entirely by the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Ning Fengzhi, dressed in an elegant robe, held a teacup as he stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the bustling Martial Soul City.

Behind him sat a tall, gaunt-faced old man—none other than the "Number One Defense in the World," Bone Douluo, Gu Rong.

"Fengzhi, it seems Martial Soul Hall has grand designs this time."

Gu Rong's voice was hoarse. "That so-called Holy Son had never been heard of before, yet they are suddenly announcing him to the world. I also heard he crippled that 'Grandmaster' Yu Xiaogang in public; his methods are quite formidable."

Ning Fengzhi nodded slightly, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes.

"That woman, Bibi Dong, is unfathomable. This adopted son is likely a trump card she has been cultivating."

"I was originally worried that Martial Soul Hall would use this banquet to stir up trouble, but looking at the current situation, they seem to only want to establish their authority."

Just as he was speaking.

Bang!

The door was frantically pushed open.

The four guards stumbled in, looking disheveled and crawling on the floor, kneeling as soon as they entered, their bodies trembling.

"Sect... Sect Master! It's bad!"

Ning Fengzhi frowned, the sense of unease in his heart intensifying instantly.

He scanned the room, but did not see that familiar figure.

"Where is Rongrong?"

Ning Fengzhi's voice dropped.

"Young Lady... the Young Lady has been taken away!"

The lead guard said with a trembling voice.

"What?!"

Gu Rong stood up abruptly, a terrifying aura erupting instantly, turning the surrounding tables and chairs into powder.

"Who did it?! In this Martial Soul City, who dares to touch someone from my Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect?!"

The guard swallowed hard, his face ashen, and stammered:

"It... it was someone from Martial Soul Hall."

"That youth claimed... he was taking the Young Lady back to the Pope Palace as a guest..."

Clatter!

The teacup in Ning Fengzhi's hand fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

The elegant face that usually remained calm even if Mount Tai collapsed before him could no longer hold its composure.

Ning Fengzhi looked at the four guards trembling on their knees, his typically refined and easygoing expression now incomparably gloomy.

His chest rose and fell slightly as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Are you saying that the Holy Son, in broad daylight, snatched Rongrong away as if he were picking up a little chick?"

Ning Fengzhi's voice was very soft, revealing neither joy nor anger, but these guards had followed him for many years and knew well that this was a sign of their Sect Master's extreme fury.

The lead Soul Ancestor pressed his forehead against the carpet, cold sweat already soaking his back, and trembled as he spoke:

"Y-yes, Sect Master. That youth's pressure was simply too terrifying. We didn't even see when he made his move before we were suppressed to the ground by a massive force. It felt as if every bone in our bodies was about to shatter; we couldn't move at all."

Gu Rong, listening from the side, was incensed. He slammed a palm onto the table, and the desk, crafted from precious agarwood, instantly turned into powder.

"Bullshit! A twelve-year-old brat—even if he started cultivating from the womb, how much soul power could he possibly have?

To suppress four Soul Ancestors with just his aura? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"

Gu Rong was tall and imposing, his hair and beard bristling; he clearly did not believe it.

Ning Fengzhi waved his hand, stopping Gu Rong's outburst. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"Uncle Gu, they wouldn't dare to lie."

Ning Fengzhi turned around, his gaze fixed in the direction of the Pope Palace, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

"It seems we have all underestimated this Holy Son of Martial Soul Hall.

Since Bibi Dong dared to bring him to the forefront, even going so far as to show her hand to the entire world for his sake, this child must possess monstrous qualities beyond human imagination."

"It's just that..."

A flash of deep worry crossed Ning Fengzhi's eyes. "Rongrong has been spoiled by us since she was young; her temperament is arrogant. If she happens to provoke that Holy Son, suffering a loss is a minor matter, but if her foundation is damaged..."

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was wealthier than a nation and possessed the world's greatest support abilities, but the self-preservation of its direct disciples was a fatal weakness.

"No, I have to go and bring Rongrong back!" Gu Rong said, already preparing to rush out.

"Wait."

Ning Fengzhi called him back, his brows locked in a tight frown. "This is Martial Soul City, and the Pope Palace is a dragon's den and a tiger's lair. Uncle Gu, you excel in defense and stealthy maneuvers; if you try to force your way in to save her, I fear you will suffer for it."

Just then, an extremely sharp and piercing aura suddenly surged outside the window.

Before the person was seen, the sound of a sword hum was heard.

The tightly closed window opened without a breeze, and a tall, upright figure appeared in the center of the room as if by teleportation.

The newcomer wore spotless white robes, his silver hair groomed meticulously. With his hands behind his back, he stood like an unsheathed sword—sharp and exposed, yet restrained.

It was the pillar of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, the rank 96 Title Douluo, Sword Saint Chen Xin.

"Fengzhi, I sensed Rongrong's aura in the direction of the Pope Palace."

Chen Xin's expression was grave. He had been outside the city handling some sect intelligence matters and had rushed back upon sensing the commotion, never expecting to hear such dire news.

Seeing Chen Xin, Ning Fengzhi felt a bit more at ease.

"Uncle Sword, Rongrong has been taken by that Holy Son of Martial Soul Hall. The situation is unclear, and Bibi Dong's stance is firm. I am worried about Rongrong's safety."