Wei Jun, leisurely sipping his tea, paused mid-drink. His gaze sharpened as he took in the scene before him.
The person he had brought here to humiliate—to prove unworthy—now radiated an entirely different presence.
Lin Feng stood there, his blood-soaked robes unmoving, his neutral expression unreadable.
But it was the aura around him—a the dark and silver spiritual energy that pulsed with a powerful suppressive force—that made the air feel heavier.
A tangible pressure settled over the pavilion, pressing against Wei Jun's chest.
Interesting… Wei Jun's fingers tapped lightly against his teacup.
That aura—it's not just for show. It suppresses other cultivators… That's why his opponents couldn't fight back.
Wei Zihao, watching the scene unfold, reacted even more vividly than Wei Jun.
His face twisted in disbelief. He had never expected the person their young master sought to dispose of to be this strong.
Meanwhile, Lin Feng—the cause of this entire situation—remained silent.
