(Second update)
The winds and clouds changed color; the entire hall was shocked.
Seeing seventy percent of the disciples collapsed on the ground below, foaming at the mouth, rolling their eyes, and twitching their limbs unconsciously as though suffering from epilepsy, the five Clear Sky Sect elders on the central platform wore exceptionally ugly expressions, their faces so gloomy they seemed capable of dripping ink.
The five elders had originally intended to use the disciples' insolence to give Yang Ming and his group a show of force when they arrived. Yet instead of succeeding, they themselves had been slapped across the face.
Their faces hurt!
Even the disciples led by Tang Long stared at the underage boy before them in shock.
A single glance, a single burst of presence, had brought down seventy percent of the disciples.
What terrifying power was this?
After withdrawing his Conqueror's Haki, Yang Ming's harmless, approachable expression returned. Yet this time, no one dared underestimate him or dismiss him as merely putting on airs. They all lowered their gazes, not daring to meet Yang Ming's eyes, as though beneath that harmless exterior lurked an incomparably savage and terrifying beast!
"What was that?"
On the central platform, the five elders' expressions shifted uncertainly between shock and suspicion.
What Yang Ming had used was neither a Martial Soul, a soul skill, nor a domain, but a kind of Conqueror's Haki that had never appeared before. If not for the five of them being powerful enough, they likely would have ended up like the disciples below.
That was not an outcome any of them wished to see.
As Yang Ming's group approached, their attention quickly shifted away from Yang Ming and focused on the weathered middle-aged man.
A tall, thin elder's face immediately darkened as he roared angrily: