To her, it was just knocking on a door. She only wanted to open what stood in her way.
To the people inside, it was a natural disaster.
With every strike, the entire world shook violently.
Space twisted in layers, the earth split open, and the seas churned.
The beings of the Small World could only watch her strike at empty space again and again.
They had no idea what she was hitting.
There was clearly nothing there.
But Lin Yan and Gu Yuena knew.
A world barrier stood there, a spatial boundary that truly separated the inside of the Small World from the outside.
And now, under Qian Yuhan's repeated blows, that once-invisible barrier was gradually taking shape.
At first, only an exceedingly faint, unnatural tint appeared at the edge of the starry sky.
Then the tint grew clearer and spread farther.
At last, like an enormous pane of transparent glass enclosing the whole world, its outline was forced into view.
A hint of delight appeared in Qian Yuhan's eyes.
It was simple, unguarded delight.
Like a child trapped in a room who had finally found the door.
She seemed to have found the exit at last.
So she raised her hand.
She was about to strike again.
In the next instant.
The world suddenly fell silent.
Not merely quiet.
All motion had been stripped away.
The wind stopped.
The air currents that had been howling froze in place.
The waves solidified.
Waves dozens of meters high, or even higher, hung above the sea in mid-crest.
Birds hung in the air.
Their wings remained halfway through a beat.
A falling stone stopped a few centimeters above the ground.
It fell no farther.
It struck nothing.
Countless living beings froze in whatever they had been doing.
Time began to congeal.