His voice was so hoarse it sounded as though someone had him by the throat.
"What the hell? Is Fang Fan a God King-making machine?"
"Uh."
The Sea God's Divine Soul Fragment managed only one word. It wasn't that he didn't want to say more. He had no idea what to say.
He looked at the Snow Empress, then at Fang Fan. Only two words kept turning over in his mind: utterly absurd.
How many ages had it taken him to become a god?
How many more ages had it taken him to attain a God King's position?
How many brushes with death had he survived along the way? How many times had his Divine Soul nearly been destroyed?
Yet this boy had raised a Soul Beast to God King with a wave of his hand.
A Late God King, at that.
He had thought he'd lived long enough to know the world. Now he felt like an old toad at the bottom of a well, staring up and believing the sky was no bigger than its mouth—until someone tore the wellhead away.
"Holy shit."
Tang San stood stunned for several seconds before forcing the words through his teeth.
Most of the confidence on his face had shattered. What little remained was making one last, dying struggle.
He glanced down at the light of his Dual Godhood. Dark red and blue-gold intertwined around him: the power of a Late God King.
He had thought that was formidable. But now, looking at the people beside Fang Fan, he couldn't see through a single one of them.
Fang Fan himself was even more unfathomable.
Looking at him felt like gazing at a mountain.
The mountain neither spoke nor moved. It simply stood there, so immense that he couldn't even summon the thought