In the VIP stands, after Tang Hao detonated a Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring and a Hundred Thousand Year Soul Ring in succession, Ning Fengzhi and the others instantly activated Martial Soul Possession.
They could not count on the defensive formation—or the Pope before them—protecting them in time from such a terrifying blow.
But just as they finished activating Martial Soul Possession and prepared to flee, the Two Extremes Stillness Domain unleashed by Chrysanthemum Ghost Douluo at the last possible moment took them by surprise.
That was not the end of it. As everyone watched, a violent spatial disturbance erupted at the Papal Palace. The once-calm air seemed to be torn open by an invisible hand.
A deep spatial rift appeared, and a dark streak of swordlight shot from its depths.
It was a longsword wreathed in Spatial Power.
Its blade seemed to hover between illusion and reality. Light warped faintly around it, and wherever its edge passed, it seemed capable of tearing space itself apart.
The sword appeared so suddenly that no one present had time to make out its shape. It crossed the barrier of space and, in an instant, reached Tang Hao from behind.
Without the slightest hesitation, the blade pierced straight through Tang Hao's chest.
Tang Hao's body jolted. A vivid blossom of blood burst from his chest.
Scarlet blood and scraps of torn clothing sprayed in every direction. Spectators nearby were caught off guard; droplets spattered their faces and clothes, and they stumbled backward in terror.
They feared the sudden strike might hit them too.
Yet the true horror was not the wound itself. The violent Soul Power that had built to its limit inside Tang Hao had found an outlet.
After all, Tang Hao had detonated two of his own Soul Rings in succession: one Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring and one Hundred Thousand Year Soul Ring.
He had already driven his power to its utmost limit. All that immense force should have gathered in the Clear Sky Hammer.
With that strike, he might even have smashed the Papal Palace to pieces and seized a slim chance to escape amid the chaos.
But the Two Extremes Stillness Domain, unleashed by Chrysanthemum Ghost Douluo at the critical moment, had locked his imminent attack in midair.
His power had nowhere to go, while Soul Power continued to build inside him.
Tang Hao was like a balloon being inflated without end, with no opening to release the pressure. His body was already on the verge of collapse.
In a sense, Qian Juechen's sword strike had both saved him and doomed him.
The instant the blade pierced his chest, the violent Soul Power he had forcibly contained found an outlet and poured madly from the wound.
Blood gushed from Tang Hao's chest. The wound became a breach in a broken dam, with torrents of Soul Power spilling out alongside the blood. His body, swollen to its limit, rapidly shriveled as the force escaped.
What remained of the renowned Clear Sky Douluo's imposing presence?
He was a punctured balloon. As the power within Tang Hao ran out of control, even the Two Extremes Stillness Domain could no longer withstand the impact and shattered.
Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo both suffered a backlash. They flew away like kites with severed strings and crashed heavily in the distance.
At the same time, Tang Hao could hold out no longer. He plummeted like a meteor and slammed into the ground.
Dust billowed and shattered stone flew. Demon Bear Douluo and Ghost Leopard Douluo were largely unaffected; they seized the chance to surround Tang Hao.
Several formidable currents of Soul Power locked onto him at once, sealing off every possible route of escape.
The entire Papal Palace fell briefly silent.
Neither the ordinary spectators below nor the elite representatives of the major sects had recovered from the heart-stopping scene.
A moment earlier, Tang Hao had been detonating his Soul Rings one after another, readying a heaven-shaking blow with the frenzy of a man bent on mutual destruction.
The terrifying surge of Soul Power had even driven many to curse him under their breath.
What did Tang Hao's feud with Spirit Hall have to do with them?
If he wanted revenge, he could have it—but did he have to drag every guest in the Papal Palace down with him?
Some who had never liked Spirit Hall and had once felt close to the Clear Sky Sect now hated both the sect and Tang Hao after that hammer strike put their lives in danger.
Yet who could have imagined that the situation would reverse completely in the blink of an eye?
The once-arrogant Clear Sky Douluo had been pierced through the chest by a mysterious sword that appeared from nowhere and pinned to the ground like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
Even more astonishingly, most people still had no idea who had struck the blow.
Spirit Hall's own Titled Douluo exchanged bewildered looks. Not one dared rush forward to pull out the sword.
It remained lodged in Tang Hao's chest, dim light flowing along its blade as traces of Spatial Power flickered in and out of sight.
It seemed to proclaim, without a word, the terrifying strength of its master.
Every gaze turned toward the high platform of the Papal Palace and the new Pope, Qian Juechen.
They all wanted to know whose hand had delivered that strike.
They also wanted to know what this young man, newly raised to the Pope's Position, would do with an enemy like Tang Hao.
Among those on the platform, Sword Douluo Chen Xin looked especially grave.
His gaze passed over the crowd and fixed on Qian Juechen, a trace of doubt flickering in his eyes.
As one of the continent's foremost swordsmen, he understood better than most what that strike meant.
It had not been an ordinary sword attack launched from afar. He had seen the surrounding space stir before the blade appeared.
In other words, the sword had not flown in from a distance. It had crossed space itself and appeared beside Tang Hao in an instant.
Such an uncanny method of attack, such mastery over space—it was unheard of.
More importantly, the timing and angle of the strike, and the precise judgment of Tang Hao's condition, had all been impeccable.
No one without absolute confidence in his own strength could have acted so decisively under those circumstances.
Chen Xin narrowed his eyes. Recalling Qian Juechen's personal records, he looked toward Feng Bailong, the visibly elated leader of the Wind Sword Sect below the platform. An answer began to form in his mind.
Golden Crocodile Douluo, meanwhile, showed little surprise at the scene.
He knew Qian Juechen had acted at the critical moment. Of everyone present, no one but he, an enshrined elder, truly understood the nature of Qian Juechen's Martial Soul and his way of fighting.
As for the elders of the Elder Hall, they knew the new Pope was formidable and had defeated Bibi Dong. But most had only glimpsed his Martial Soul from afar that day on Angel Sacred Mountain. They did not understand how he truly fought.
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