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Lian Changzhi's Soul Douluo pressure bore down like a collapsing mountain, plunging everyone from Chang'an Academy into an ice cellar.
That pressure was no raging hurricane, but a viscous undercurrent, carrying the chilling cold of a millennium cold pool as it quietly seeped into everyone's marrow.
Those with weaker cultivation levels already felt stabbing pain in their seas of consciousness, as though countless silver needles were darting through the depths of their souls. Even breathing became sluggish and difficult.
The upper soul nest opened at the Soul Saint realm was an opportunity for mental power to transform.
Only upon reaching the Soul Douluo realm could a Soul Master truly touch the mysteries of mental power-that soul power, vast as a river of stars, could take tangible form as blades and swords, or become a soothing spring breeze and nourishing rain.
Twenty or thirty years of accumulated experience were enough for a powerhouse to temper mental power until it obeyed as readily as their own limbs, becoming either sweet dew that saved the dying and healed the wounded, or thunder that destroyed heaven and earth.
His actions were meant to make them speak, yet beneath his coercive pressure, like forcing a cow's head down to make it drink, none of them were willing to say a word.
Xiao Yi still stood motionless, like a jade statue in the snow. The jade hairpin in her hair shimmered with cool, clear light as she continued to deal with the immense upheaval in her sea of consciousness.
Before she could speak, Chen Mu stepped half a pace forward beside her.
The leader of the Chang'an students present glowed with faint