The Fallen Star Knight surveyed those who had survived inside the pit, ignored them, and rested his gaze on the old man-or, more precisely, the Horn Bone in his hand.
Under his stare, the old man could not help feeling his skin crawl.
The other man's gaze was simply too keen, and he could sense no fluctuations of Soul Power from him whatsoever.
This did not mean the other man was weak. Quite the opposite: it meant his strength far surpassed the old man's.
He was at least a Titled Douluo-level existence!
The old man gripped the Horn Bone tightly, struggling inwardly.
In the broader scheme of things, he needed this Soul Bone to evade his family's pursuit and deal with the problems he would encounter along the way.
But in the immediate sense, if he died here now, none of that would mean anything.
Finally, however, the old man drew a deep breath. Just as he was about to speak, a cold snort came from opposite him.
He looked up and discovered that his body was being pulled toward the man in white, flying in his direction.
His expression changed in alarm. He did not know what was happening, but one thing was certain: the other man had not come with good intentions.
The next instant, dazzling reddish-orange light erupted from the old man's body. He became a streak of light and flew in the opposite direction.
But how could the other man let him have his way? An amused expression surfaced on the white-clad man's face.
The suction on the old man's body abruptly vanished, but he could not stop his backward momentum in time and hurtled straight into the wall.
With a boom, a large hole appeared in the wall, light flickering within it.
Seeing this, the