Xia Ming hovered beneath the vault of heaven, the Qilin phantom behind him moving in perfect unison with his true body.
His expression showed neither sorrow nor joy. He merely slowly raised his right hand toward Da Ming, who stood before him with his neck bared for execution.
Then he gently pushed forward.
The motion was unhurried, as though he were merely pushing open a half-closed door.
Yet the instant his palm moved forward—
the Qilin phantom made the exact same motion.
Its enormous forepaw slowly reached out.
Where its claw tips passed, space itself seemed to vanish completely, revealing the deep, boundless void beyond.
"Suppress."
Xia Ming slightly parted his lips.
"Rumble—!"
The entire plane seemed to let out a groan of unbearable strain!
Centered on Xia Ming, everything within sight—light, dust, drifting clouds...
Instantly fell into absolute stillness, like a vast painting abruptly frozen solid.
In that instant, heaven and earth lost all color, leaving behind only a stifling grayish white.
Had Xia Ming not deliberately restrained the power of this strike at the moment he unleashed it—
locking all destructive fluctuations within a hundred-mile radius of the battlefield's core—
then every living thing, mountain, and river within ten thousand miles would have been silently ground into dust beneath this pure crushing force.
Da Ming, who bore the brunt of it, felt it most deeply.
The instant the word "suppress" rang out, it was as though he no longer carried a single mountain on his back, but the weight of the entire world.
Even the fundamental laws that composed the world—space, time, and even the flow of his own Divine Power—became shackles weighing billions of pounds.
They pinned him firmly in place from every conceivable level.
He could only watch as the Qilin's colossal claw, which seemed to