The moment Pan Long spoke, the atmosphere in the little reception room changed completely.
In the space of that single sentence, the room seemed to turn into Winter. Frost spread across the floor, icy mist filled the air, and even the steaming milk tea in the cups formed a layer of ice.
Judging by the cold alone, no one would have doubted that they were in a frigid region in the dead of Winter.
Clifton had been about to fly into a rage at Pan Long's words. But one glare from him, followed by the frost born of the killing intent all around them, snuffed out every trace of anger. All that remained was a heart full of dread.
Clifton had spent years roaming the Martial World. He was no weakling, and he knew power when he saw it. Yet he had never even heard of someone who could turn a room into Winter with a single sentence.
In that instant, he realized who he was facing.
His body began to tremble so violently that he could barely stay seated.
He tried to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his teeth started chattering. Nothing came out but a ceaseless rattle—not even one intelligible word.
Fear gripped his heart like the talons of a sharp-clawed eagle. Even breathing grew difficult, let alone bargaining or begging for mercy.
Strangely, though they were all within arm's reach, Natalia and Douglas felt only a slight chill. They pulled their clothes tighter and each used the Invisible Arts to protect themselves. The cold faded, and they were fine.
Clifton, whose mastery of the Invisible Arts far surpassed theirs, was so cold he could barely breathe. He was almost freezing to death.
After a few seconds, Pan Long seemed to realize he had