Level Seventy

Yang Guyun rode beside him, maintaining his usual silence. He only spoke softly when they needed water or had to change horses.

However, Zhou Qiubai noticed a small detail.

Yang Guyun's Soul Power was somewhat unstable.

"Your Soul Power is unstable." Zhou Qiubai tugged on the reins, slowing his horse, then turned to look at Yang Guyun. "You reached level seventy?"

Yang Guyun lowered his head and looked at his hand, sensing the force surging within his body, before raising his head and saying, "I broke through last night. Didn't get the chance to mention it."

Zhou Qiubai knew the other man was not joking. With Yang Guyun's personality, he would not joke around in the first place.

If anyone else heard that, they would probably curse him for deliberately showing off.

For Soul Masters, going from level sixty-nine to seventy was an enormous threshold. Cross it, and one became a Soul Saint. Fail to cross it, and one might waste an entire lifetime lingering there.

Countless geniuses had hovered at this juncture for three, five, even ten years, yet his brother had crossed it without a sound.

But Zhou Qiubai understood Yang Guyun. He was not being modest for show; he genuinely felt there was no need to make a special mention of something like this.

In Yang Guyun's eyes, increasing one's Soul Power was no different from eating or drinking. It was simply something the body did. Once it was done, that was enough—there was no need to beat drums and proclaim it to the world.

This guy couldn't be coaxed into saying a word even with three strikes of a stick. Expecting him to crack a joke was less realistic than expecting Bibi Dong to drop dead tomorrow.

"Then perfect." Zhou Qiubai reined in his horse and