The streets were covered in ruins, with broken bricks, tiles, and rubble scattered everywhere.
Huo Yuhao knelt on one knee, gulping down breaths of air.
After exhausting its last trace of power, the Four Saints Profound Qilin Armor finally let out a crisp crack, then dissolved into specks of multicolored light that vanished into the air.
Grudge Nether Douluo also withdrew his Martial Soul Avatar.
He reverted to the middle-aged man in a black trench coat and dark crimson top hat.
Stepping on a jet-black Grudge Thread suspended in midair, Grudge Nether Douluo walked toward Huo Yuhao one step at a time. The previously violent fluctuations of ice and fire energy around them had now completely subsided.
His pale face bore a triumphant smile, and even his gaze upon Huo Yuhao had become incomparably gentle, as though he were admiring a rare treasure he had recovered after losing it.
"Sleep, Holy Son."
Grudge Nether Douluo extended his right hand, his tone as soft as if he were coaxing a disobedient child to sleep. None of the previous savagery from their life-and-death battle remained.
Huo Yuhao rolled his eyes inwardly. This old lunatic really got into character. He actually thinks I'm some damn Holy Spirit Cult Holy Son now.
A wisp of black light gathered at Grudge Nether Douluo's fingertips. He continued in that eerie, gentle tone, "When you awaken, you will remember your mission: to bring eternal salvation to all living beings in this world."
Faced with this seemingly hopeless dead end, Huo Yuhao did not even make a gesture of struggle, nor did his handsome face reveal the slightest panic.
Forget fear—he did not even blink. He had never lacked trump cards, after all. If he could not win, calling for help was hardly something he had never done