At that moment, Yun Ming slowly spoke.
"Tell me. What exactly does Chen Yu want?"
"He should know."
"As a Peak Quasi-God, if I wanted to run, Level 12 Fixed Soul Tool Shells could never hurt me."
It was true.
Level 12 Fixed Soul Tool Shells were terrifyingly powerful. They might even be capable of killing a god.
But they had one fatal flaw—
Mobility.
Fixed Soul Guidance Shells were not homing missiles.
They could only fly along preset trajectories and strike targets within a fixed area.
With his speed and reflexes as a Peak Quasi-God, he could judge their course the instant they launched and escape the blast radius before they exploded.
Pan Wen smiled faintly at his words.
It was still a practiced smile, still measured to perfection. But in Yun Ming's eyes, it stung more than any mockery.
"Has Pavilion Master Yun forgotten..."
"The seven-day deadline has passed."
"Seven days?"
Yun Ming froze for a moment and frowned, confusion flashing through his eyes.
Then his expression grew darker and darker.
He suddenly remembered.
Seven days ago, at the gates of Shrek Academy, Pan Wen had laid a thick stack of papers before him: a list of the resources Ya Li had consumed over thirty years.
And he, Sky-Propping Douluo and Sea God Pavilion Master, had thumped his chest in front of everyone and declared, "Fine! It's only a little money! I'll pay it back."
He had even promised to pay it all within seven days.
But too much had happened since then.
The Tang Sect had been investigated, the War God Temple purged, Chen Xinjie executed, Yue Guan killed...
One thing after another.
And he had completely forgotten about the debt.
The elders, too, remembered what this was about.
Some stared wide-eyed. On others' faces, fear gave