One-Sided Suppression

The instant time resumed its flow, Ziyang opened his eyes.

A faint pink glow surfaced in the depths of his pupils, like twilight shining upon a pool of blood.

An aura radiated from Ziyang.

Simply standing there made the surrounding air tremble.

The entire world suddenly fell silent. The city's clamor seemed to have had its throat seized by an invisible hand.

Austin Griffin's three heads lifted simultaneously, its six eyes widening. It stepped back instinctively, then back again. Its claws raked four sparks through the air, and it stopped only when its spine struck the wall.

Its three mouths opened and closed, yet no sound emerged.

There was only one emotion in those six eyes—terror.

It was terror etched into the depths of its soul, deeper than fear, more primal than dread. Like prey seeing its natural predator, like a mortal beholding a god.

Ziyang—no, the being currently using Ziyang's body—lowered his head and looked at his hands.

He clenched his fist, released it, then clenched it again. Pink light flowed between his fingers before quietly fading away.

He sensed the power this body could command.

A moment later, the corner of his lips curved upward.

Disdain.

It was faint and slight, the casual indifference of a god looking down upon ants.

"My three abilities? I can use the first and second? That will be enough!" His voice was calm, yet incomparably arrogant.

Tang San watched Ziyang's current appearance, his divine soul trembling as he once again felt that terrifying sense of danger.

His trident lay horizontally before him. His blue hair stirred without wind, and the figure formed from his divine soul had become several shades fainter than before.

Yet he did not retreat. Instead, he arrogantly said, "Who are you to dare make an enemy of this God King?"

Ziyang ignored him. He merely raised his hand, then lightly pinched his index finger and thumb together, as though picking up an invisible speck of dust.

Point.

Tang San's pupils abruptly contracted. He sensed something utterly pure.

A piece of his chest suddenly became empty. The divine soul there had vanished, annihilated, as though it had never existed.

He lowered his head and saw a tiny dot on his chest.

It was minuscule, so small it was nearly invisible. Yet everything around that dot was disappearing, its edges clean and neat, as though the sharpest blade had suddenly gouged out a piece.

"A little weak..."

Disdain flowed from "Ziyang's" lips. Even if this God King was merely a divine soul, he was far too watered down. With such a minor attack, he should have recovered already.

Tang San gritted his teeth and raised the Sea God Trident, unleashing a golden ring of light—Sea God's Thirteen Halberds: Unfixed Storm.

Ziyang merely lifted a finger, and the golden ring of light twisted directly into a thin thread.

That thread actually curled back toward Tang San.

"What kind of technique is this?" Tang San did not understand, but nothing could describe the speed of that attack.

It ignored space, ignored distance, and arrived directly before Tang San.

Tang San turned sideways and raised his trident to block it. Yet the thread did not touch the trident.

It passed straight through the middle of the trident's shaft, as though that divine weapon were merely an illusion. Then it passed through his glabella, emerged from the back of his head, and extended into the endless void behind him.

Tang San's body froze. It seemed that another thread had appeared within his consciousness, a thread connecting "Ziyang" to him.

That thread ignored all defenses and nailed him directly in place.

"So this technique can be used like that." Ziyang felt that he had been utterly worthless before.

"Is it powerful? This is only the most basic application." That distant voice echoed.

At that moment, Tang San threw the Sea God Trident from his hand, sending it stabbing straight toward Ziyang's body.

"Ziyang" did not dodge. Instead, he pointed into the void.

The Sea God Trident was caught by a single thread. Then, as though time had reversed, it returned to Tang San's hand.

"Although the concept of time only exists in four dimensions, you came later. Things that already exist can also be used."

That majestic voice explained it to Ziyang again.

Tang San did not give up.

His hand seized the trident flying back toward him. His five fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white. He tried to use an even more terrifying power.

Yet his body could not move at all.

Seeing the defiant look on his face, "Ziyang" moved his finger again.

This time, he slashed through the air.

Three threads appeared at once. One wrapped around the trident's shaft, one around Tang San's right wrist, and one around his neck.

The threads were incredibly thin, nearly invisible, yet they easily suppressed Tang San's divine soul.

His consciousness was split apart.

Three threads, three directions, tearing his thoughts into three pieces.

The three fragments of thought conflicted with and disrupted one another, like three ropes twisted together. None of them could move.

The trident slipped from his hand.

There was no sound of it hitting the ground.

The trident stopped in midair, suspended by an invisible thread. It hung there like an exhibit mounted on a wall.

Tang San dropped to one knee.

It was not because he wanted to kneel. The three threads were pulling downward. His back bent, his shoulders shook, and the body formed from his divine soul continuously warped beneath the pull of those threads.

He raised his head and looked at Ziyang before him.

There was no fear or anger in those blue eyes, only something complicated and indescribable.

"Who are you?" he asked weakly.

"Ziyang" looked down at him, Tang San's kneeling figure reflected in his pink pupils.

"Who I am is unimportant. You are not worthy of knowing."

His fingers lifted slightly.

The three threads nailed into Tang San trembled at once, like plucked strings.

Tang San's divine soul trembled with them—not his body, but every inch of consciousness that made up his existence resonated.

The threads began to divide.

From three pieces to six, from six to twelve. With every tremor, Tang San's divine soul was cut even more finely.

Those fragments drifted through the air like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind, each fragment still retaining traces of his consciousness.

Twelve pieces, twenty-four pieces, forty-eight pieces...

The fragments became smaller and more numerous, like a golden mist.

Tang San's face could no longer be seen clearly. Only countless tiny points of light floated through the void, like fireflies on a summer night, like phosphorescence upon the sea.

"Ziyang" withdrew his hand, and that vast voice rang out again. "Have you seen clearly how to use your own power?"

Ziyang was full of question marks, feeling as though he had only just learned that one plus one equaled two, and this person was already asking whether he had mastered calculus.

"You are ten years old. How could anyone fail to learn something so simple?"

It looked at Ziyang with open disdain, feeling that this successor was rather useless. But then it remembered that this fellow had inherited only the most fundamental portion.

"Alright, that little fellow wants to eat the Divine Core inside this child's body, right? But it is only energy in the end. It is the same if you consume it."

Its tone was casual as it walked toward Tang Wulin. Several threads emerged from its palm and plunged directly into Tang Wulin's body.

The Golden Dragon King Dragon Soul was kidnapped once again.