The air in auction house was thick with an overwhelming sense of tension as the black-robed man—once an arrogant figure at the peak of Soul Condensation—now found himself crushed beneath the weight of something far greater. The force that had descended upon him was no ordinary pressure; it was the palpable presence of an overwhelming power, one that could shatter the heavens themselves.
"Nascent Soul! He's definitely at the Nascent Soul stage!"
"A Nascent Soul expert! That black-robed man is finished!"
A ripple of shock and awe spread through the crowd, shaking even the hardiest of hearts. The pressure that hung in the air wasn't the kind a mere Soul Condensation cultivator could muster—it was a force that distorted the very atmosphere, creating a sense of suffocating inevitability. Fear mixed with awe as the reality set in: an existence far beyond the realm of ordinary cultivation had just made their presence known.
Chaos City had long whispered of Nascent Soul cultivators, those legendary beings whose power was enough to shape the world. Their names were etched in ancient scrolls, passed down through hushed stories told in dimly lit taverns. But to see one in the flesh? Unimaginable.
Yet here they were—an unmatched force had revealed itself, and with it, the potential to alter the fate of the city itself. And with that appearance came another, darker emotion bubbling beneath the surface of the crowd—gloating.
For too long, the black-robed man had looked down on them all, tossing his weight around as though the world belonged to him. He had trampled on the hearts of those weaker than him, and now, they reveled in the spectacle of his downfall.
"Weren't you invincible just moments ago?" they thought. "Weren't you so high and mighty?"
The power dynamics had shifted in an instant. And the look of absolute humiliation on the black-robed man's face—well, that was enough to stir satisfaction deep within the onlookers' hearts.
As the pressure descended like a gathering storm, the black-robed man's composure faltered. Panic surged through his veins, but years of cultivated instinct kept him sharp. With a motion too swift for most to follow, he pulled out a jade slip—his trump card.
The artifact was a treasure he'd spent years securing, a device meant only for moments like this. When crushed, it would multiply his speed severalfold, allowing him to flee faster than the eye could follow.
Without a moment's hesitation, he shattered the jade slip. In the blink of an eye, he was a streak of silver, darting away from the auction house as though fleeing from the very hand of death itself.
His heart raced. His breath came in ragged gasps. He didn't dare look back, though he could feel the looming presence of impending doom. The escape was his only hope.
Swoosh!
In a mere instant, the black-robed man had crossed several streets, moving faster than even peak Soul Condensation experts could track. His escape caused an uproar, and experts within the city noticed the blinding streak cutting through the sky.
Far below, in a secluded courtyard, two elderly figures looked up in unison, their sharp gazes narrowing as the silver light raced toward the city's edge.
"That individual... is incredibly powerful!" one elder muttered, his voice laced with awe.
The two men, titans of the city themselves, exchanged a look. The black-robed man had shown himself to be a peak Soul Condensation expert—a force to be reckoned with. Yet as they watched, something unsettled them.
The man wasn't just strong—he was fleeing.
A peak Soul Condensation cultivator, fleeing for his life? It was almost unthinkable. The realization sank in, twisting in their minds. Something far greater was at play here, something that put even their lofty powers into perspective.
Meanwhile, the black-robed man's desperate dash for freedom carried him toward the open gates of Chaos City. He could see the wilderness beyond, his chance at escape within reach. Yet fate, it seemed, had other plans.
Suddenly, high above the city, a phenomenon occurred—one that stunned even the most battle-hardened cultivators. From the clouds, a colossal, translucent hand materialized, its size dwarfing anything the black-robed man could comprehend.
It descended slowly, but its immense scale made the motion seem deceptively tranquil. In reality, it was coming with terrifying speed. The black-robed man's heart stopped as the shadow of the hand fell over him.
One glance upward was enough to drain the blood from his face. There was no escape. The hand was too large, too powerful, to avoid. He was a mere insect caught in its inevitable path.
Boom!!!
A deafening roar reverberated through Chaos City, shaking the very foundations of the earth.
The overwhelming spiritual force of the descending palm annihilated the black-robed man in an instant. The city's citizens, helpless witnesses to this god-like display of power, could only watch in stunned silence as the man's figure was obliterated, shattered into dust by a force they couldn't even begin to understand.
The sound of the impact rang out like a bell tolling for the man's final moments, leaving ringing in the ears of all who had been present.
For the ordinary cultivators watching, this was nothing short of a nightmare. Those who had long strived for the Soul Condensation Realm, who had dedicated their lives to mastering their craft, now realized how fragile they truly were in the face of such might.
Many had fought and struggled to reach the Soul Condensation Realm, believing it to be the pinnacle of their efforts. But now, before them, was an example of just how far that power fell short when faced with the true might of a Nascent Soul cultivator.
For a brief moment, despair gripped their hearts.
What was the point of striving so hard? How could their decades of hard work and blood, sweat, and tears ever compare to this overwhelming power?
But the moment of despair was fleeting. As the colossal hand slowly faded from view, a realization took root.
It wasn't that cultivation itself was meaningless.
It was that the black-robed man had been destroyed not by his lack of power, but because he had dared to offend an existence he should have never even thought to challenge.
"Nascent Soul!"
The collective gasp from the crowd echoed through the streets, followed by the hushed awe of those who now fully understood the power that had just been unleashed.
Looking up, they saw the spiritual energy of the enormous hand dissipating into the air like mist, and the air itself seemed to tremble as the last traces of its overwhelming presence faded.
The Nascent Soul cultivator had made their mark.
Elsewhere in the city, outside an inn, a group of figures stood frozen in disbelief. Gui Xinmeng and several others had rushed into the street just in time to witness the final, awe-striking moment—the black-robed man obliterated by the heavens themselves.
Gui Xinmeng's mouth hung open in stunned silence, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to process what had just unfolded before her eyes.
That man—the one who had been at the peak of the Soul Condensation Realm—had been annihilated in an instant. No struggle, no resistance, nothing but an overwhelming, god-like force that had reduced him to nothing.
Gui Yiyi, standing next to her, gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "It's Master!" she cried, her voice trembling.
The realization struck her like lightning. There was no mistaking the familiar aura—Xuan Yi's unmistakable presence was undeniable.
It was the first time she had witnessed her master's power firsthand. Up until now, Xuan Yi had been a figure of mystery—distant, powerful, but shrouded in an enigma. But now, with that single, devastating strike, the veil had lifted.
An expert who could make Duan Li's master—a peak Soul Condensation cultivator—tremble, and yet be effortlessly crushed before Xuan Yi's might.
Even Gui Yiyi, Xuan Yi's own disciple, couldn't help but feel awe and reverence flood her heart. She was not alone in this sentiment.
Gui Xinmeng and the others, who had watched in stunned silence, now looked to Gui Yiyi for answers.
"What!? Elder Xuan Yi?" they asked in shock.
They had no way of sensing the aura themselves, but once Gui Yiyi spoke, realization flooded them like a tidal wave.
Respect. Reverence. Awe. These emotions washed over them in waves, and without thinking, they bowed their heads deeply.
In the presence of Xuan Yi, a man whose power could alter the very fabric of their world with a single gesture, there was only one thing they could do.