Black clouds hung low like a lid over the mountain gate Tiger Roar Sect banners snapped in the gale Hundreds of cultivators sealed off Moonfall Sect until there was no gap to breathe through

  Sect Master Hu Meng hovered in the air as if he were walking on nothing A ghost head saber carried him beneath his feet He looked down on the broken survivors like a butcher judging scraps

  To test what was real Hu Meng snorted coldly He released the full terror of a mid stage Golden Core realm aura In an instant the sky seemed to dim

  An invisible pressure crashed down like a mountain collapsing onto the square

  For Moonfall Sect people whose highest strength barely reached Foundation Establishment this was disaster Bodies dropped to the ground one after another Qingsong and the disciples went paper white

  Their knees trembled and tried to fold They forced every shred of spiritual power out to resist Even so they could only hold themselves on one knee

  Blood leaked from the corners of their mouths Internal injuries spread through them like fire

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  Yet Allen at the center looked like an unnatural exception Two disciples had propped him at the front earlier He was already feverish and half awake

  He swayed on his feet not from fear Only from weakness caused by a brutal cold When Hu Meng pressure poured down the spiritual energy around them seemed to freeze

  But to Allen who had no spirit roots at all it felt like nothing more than a stronger draft blowing through a hallway A mortal has no spiritual sense So the so called soul crushing pressure could not even reach him

  To Allen the stuffed nose was more miserable than anything in the air

  The gale kicked sand and grit off the ground and into Allens eyes He sniffed through the blockage He forced his heavy eyelids open

  Annoyance flashed across his face He lifted a hand and waved in front of him to brush away the flying dirt Then he tugged his leaky windbreaker tighter around his body

  That simple motion hit Hu Meng like a hammer Hu Meng watched his Golden Core pressure crush Moonfall Sect until they spat blood Yet the so called Ancestor in strange clothes did not move at all

  Not only did the man stand straight He even waved his hand like he was shooing a fly in the middle of a violent spiritual storm

  Hu Meng pupils shrank hard Cold sweat burst across his forehead In his mind that casual wave meant his Golden Core power was nothing

  It meant the man could stir heaven and earth like playing with dust No one could ignore full pressure like this without even lighting protective radiance That depth could only belong to a legend of returning to plainness

  Hu Meng arrogance died on the spot Even the ghost head saber beneath his feet began to tremble uncontrollably

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