This cry was the most terrifying suppression against the soul.
In an instant, several Great Emperors moved swiftly and pulled Lang Feng back.
The Crimson Soul Beast had never expected to truly kill Lang Feng before so many Great Emperors. It merely snorted and said provocatively, "I already said that trash shouldn't come up here. You're not worthy of making me act, yet you still insist on humiliating yourself. You're simply courting death!"
Seeing Lang Feng's miserable state, Yang Chen shook his head helplessly. At the very least, Lang Feng would need half a month of recuperation to recover fully. Problems involving the soul were the hardest to mend.
Most crucially, after Lang Feng's failure, the lofty image he had so deliberately tried to uphold had completely crumbled.
He had originally won battle after battle and was the person everyone had hoped would take the stage. Even if he lost, that would have been his own problem. But Lang Feng had chosen to step forward at this moment—and then lost. There was no doubt that he could not shirk this responsibility even if he wanted to.
Fortunately, Lang Feng had fainted. Otherwise, if he knew that the image he had desperately maintained had collapsed, he would probably have been angered half to death.
Of course, Lang Feng was not the one suffering the most. Once he had fainted, everything was over for him. The one in the most pain was Great Emperor Pingshan.
When Great Emperor Pingshan opened Lang Feng's clothes and inspected his Soul Guard Realm, he was horrified to discover that more than half of it had cracked apart with sharp snaps.
At this extent of damage, there was almost no possibility of using it again.
"My treasure!" Great Emperor Pingshan wailed miserably, his pain beyond description. He