"I f***ing knew it... 7,891 kilograms?!"
Staring at the number on the display, Zhang Yangzi's pupils suddenly widened to their limits, almost popping out of their sockets. His voice was filled with undisguisable disbelief.
The number hung there quietly on the display. The cold white digits glowed with a pale-blue halo, like a branding iron pressed against his retinas, scorching him until his entire body stiffened slightly.
"Is he even human...?"
Then he added, his voice much lower than before. It was a stunned murmur after the shock, as if he were asking the people around him—or himself.
His mind had already begun uncontrollably converting the figure into various points of reference—a mature thousand-year-old rhinoceros could unleash roughly four thousand kilograms of force in a charge.
A Five-Ring Soul King at the peak who specialized in strength could probably exert five to six thousand kilograms, while Tang Wulin's single claw strike had produced a figure close to eight thousand.
That was the strength of a Soul Emperor.
Xie Xie and Xu Xiaoyan both swallowed instinctively. Their throats bobbed almost in sync, as though they had been tugged by the same invisible thread.
Both had received some education arranged by their families and understood the strength data for the various stages of Soul Masters. At that moment, the same conclusion flashed through their minds almost simultaneously—Tang Wulin's strike had nearly reached the average strength of a Sixty-Third-Level Soul Emperor.
Sixty-third level.
Placed on a nine-year-old child, that number was like the outline of an entire mountain range suddenly appearing on a blank sheet of paper. No matter how they looked at it, it seemed unreal.
Wu Changkong, Huang Feng'er, and Gu Yue all looked as though they had expected it.
Wu Changkong's gaze fell on the number, his expression barely changing,