Chapter 383: Overwhelming!
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Chapter 383: Overwhelming!
Overwhelming! . . . n.-0VeLbIn
With each approaching footfall, their hearts grew heavier, though they couldn't quite fathom the reason behind their increasing unease. It was as if those steps were all treading on their very hearts.
The sound indicated that there were three men walking toward them. One led the way, with the other two flanking his sides. They moved in unison, their pace seemingly ordinary, yet there was an underlying sense of something unusual. For inexplicable reasons, an oppressive aura enveloped the room.
Of the three, it was the man at the forefront who walked with unwavering determination. His steps were resolute and decisive, and he advanced toward them without hesitation. Each footfall seemed to resonate with an unyielding force, an overwhelming aura of fierceness.
Their very presence felt overpowering, as though they would traverse any obstacle in their path, whether it was a mountain or a mountain of swords. There was no hesitation, no pause. If a mountain stood before him, he would tread it down, and if it were a mountain of swords, he would shatter them all.
The sound of the steps grew ever closer, resembling the war drums of a conquering army. They were charged with an overwhelming pride.
In response to this imposing presence, the ten men in the VIP hall suddenly sat up straight, instinctively acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
The man continued his casual approach, seemingly not utilizing any martial arts. His footsteps remained ordinary, yet everyone in the room understood that the one who could make such strides must be an extraordinary and formidable individual.
This was no ordinary man.
In the entrance of the inner hall, a shadow darted, and a figure appeared without a sound.
Standing tall, his gaze swept over everything with a sense of cold disdain and scorn. It was as though he regarded those present as courtiers, and they felt the weight of his authority.
In that moment, all ten individuals in the room felt the power of a much greater man, and the man himself exuded an air of accustomed command.
With measured steps, the enigmatic figure moved towards the most opulent chair and seated himself, displaying an air of unshakeable composure. There was no pretense, and his actions seemed entirely uncontrived.
Upon taking his seat, he gazed southward with eyes that radiated an aura of coldness, indifference, disdain, and disgust. His posture exuded an air of nobility and distinction, undeniably regal.
His movements were marked by their casual yet commanding demeanor, an unmistakable embodiment of authority. The collective impression he left upon those present was of a king in their midst. Regardless of the circumstances, he remained the conqueror, the sovereign.
Wherever he stood, he transformed the place into a throne, and it was as if the king resided where he did.
Silently, he occupied the chair, offering no words. His next action was to leisurely cross his legs, displaying a demeanor of utmost ease and casual confidence.
Standing steadfastly behind him were Ning Biluo and Liu Changjun, their posture unwavering, their countenance devoid of emotion. In their eyes, there was a detachment, a cold indifference that appeared as if they would remain unaffected even if the lives of all others in the room were to be extinguished.
The three of them had arrived and demonstrated their authority to the representatives of the five clans, communicating a stern message without uttering a single word. There was no need for speech; their presence alone conveyed more than words ever could.
As the Monarch, Feng Zhiling had not spoken, and neither Ning Biluo nor Liu Changjun would be the first to break the silence. The representatives of the five clans, stunned and fearful, were equally reticent. They had witnessed the strength of Ling-Bao Hall, for the trio's arrival had underscored the organization's might.
Recognition flashed in the eyes of the representatives. They identified Liu Changjun, the assassin with the coldest countenance. Once one of the world's top ten assassins, he now served within Ling-Bao Hall, having overseen the security during the auction. In the face of the Sunlight Sect's attempted aggression to seize the Supreme Dan bead, Liu Changjun had displayed unwavering resolve. His valor, coupled with his formidable skills, had made him a significant figure.
The man seated at the center, known to them as the true head of Ling-Bao Hall, was Feng Zhiling. He had briefly appeared during the auction, although his full visage had remained concealed. Little was known about him—his origins, identity, master, background, or his level of cultivation remained a mystery. His reputation was based on the wisdom of his actions. He had orchestrated the rapid cooperation with the House of the Chaotic Storms, a testament to his shrewd negotiation skills. In that moment, as they beheld him once more, his commanding and formidable presence left no doubt about his extraordinary status.
The last individual to enter their presence remained largely unfamiliar to those assembled. His countenance bore a cold, peculiar quality that initially evoked no distinctive impression. However, upon closer contemplation, an unsettling realization settled in—the audience had recently gazed upon him, yet his visage had slipped their collective memory, as though he defied recollection.
Such an occurrence held two plausible explanations. First, he could be practicing an exceptionally obscure martial art, one that could influence and distort perception. Second, his inherent strength might exist at a level that transcended their comprehension.
As representatives of the five clans, they instinctively favored the notion that his martial art was the enigmatic factor. It was more palatable than accepting the idea of an individual exceeding their collective strength.
For the three emissaries of Ling-Bao Hall, their extraordinary prowess was undeniable. Their presence exerted an immediate, chilling influence upon the room, sending a shiver through the atmosphere.
However, unbeknownst to the representatives of the five clans, Ning Biluo himself was filled with astonishment. His amazement was not directed at the envoys of the five clans but rather at Feng Zhiling, also known as Feng Monarch.
Ning Biluo was privy to Feng Monarch's true identity: he was Lord Cha, or Cha Eun Xiao, the son of Cha Nantian, the renowned General Cha. This man's overwhelming dominance at this very moment exceeded even the grandeur of his illustrious father.
Even the Great General Cha, who once commanded legions of soldiers and inspired awe throughout the Land of Han-Yang, had never wielded such potent authority as his son..
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Chapter 383: Overwhelming!
Overwhelming! . . . n.-0VeLbIn
With each approaching footfall, their hearts grew heavier, though they couldn't quite fathom the reason behind their increasing unease. It was as if those steps were all treading on their very hearts.
The sound indicated that there were three men walking toward them. One led the way, with the other two flanking his sides. They moved in unison, their pace seemingly ordinary, yet there was an underlying sense of something unusual. For inexplicable reasons, an oppressive aura enveloped the room.
Of the three, it was the man at the forefront who walked with unwavering determination. His steps were resolute and decisive, and he advanced toward them without hesitation. Each footfall seemed to resonate with an unyielding force, an overwhelming aura of fierceness.
Their very presence felt overpowering, as though they would traverse any obstacle in their path, whether it was a mountain or a mountain of swords. There was no hesitation, no pause. If a mountain stood before him, he would tread it down, and if it were a mountain of swords, he would shatter them all.
The sound of the steps grew ever closer, resembling the war drums of a conquering army. They were charged with an overwhelming pride.
In response to this imposing presence, the ten men in the VIP hall suddenly sat up straight, instinctively acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
The man continued his casual approach, seemingly not utilizing any martial arts. His footsteps remained ordinary, yet everyone in the room understood that the one who could make such strides must be an extraordinary and formidable individual.
This was no ordinary man.
In the entrance of the inner hall, a shadow darted, and a figure appeared without a sound.
Standing tall, his gaze swept over everything with a sense of cold disdain and scorn. It was as though he regarded those present as courtiers, and they felt the weight of his authority.
In that moment, all ten individuals in the room felt the power of a much greater man, and the man himself exuded an air of accustomed command.
With measured steps, the enigmatic figure moved towards the most opulent chair and seated himself, displaying an air of unshakeable composure. There was no pretense, and his actions seemed entirely uncontrived.
Upon taking his seat, he gazed southward with eyes that radiated an aura of coldness, indifference, disdain, and disgust. His posture exuded an air of nobility and distinction, undeniably regal.
His movements were marked by their casual yet commanding demeanor, an unmistakable embodiment of authority. The collective impression he left upon those present was of a king in their midst. Regardless of the circumstances, he remained the conqueror, the sovereign.
Wherever he stood, he transformed the place into a throne, and it was as if the king resided where he did.
Silently, he occupied the chair, offering no words. His next action was to leisurely cross his legs, displaying a demeanor of utmost ease and casual confidence.
Standing steadfastly behind him were Ning Biluo and Liu Changjun, their posture unwavering, their countenance devoid of emotion. In their eyes, there was a detachment, a cold indifference that appeared as if they would remain unaffected even if the lives of all others in the room were to be extinguished.
The three of them had arrived and demonstrated their authority to the representatives of the five clans, communicating a stern message without uttering a single word. There was no need for speech; their presence alone conveyed more than words ever could.
As the Monarch, Feng Zhiling had not spoken, and neither Ning Biluo nor Liu Changjun would be the first to break the silence. The representatives of the five clans, stunned and fearful, were equally reticent. They had witnessed the strength of Ling-Bao Hall, for the trio's arrival had underscored the organization's might.
Recognition flashed in the eyes of the representatives. They identified Liu Changjun, the assassin with the coldest countenance. Once one of the world's top ten assassins, he now served within Ling-Bao Hall, having overseen the security during the auction. In the face of the Sunlight Sect's attempted aggression to seize the Supreme Dan bead, Liu Changjun had displayed unwavering resolve. His valor, coupled with his formidable skills, had made him a significant figure.
The man seated at the center, known to them as the true head of Ling-Bao Hall, was Feng Zhiling. He had briefly appeared during the auction, although his full visage had remained concealed. Little was known about him—his origins, identity, master, background, or his level of cultivation remained a mystery. His reputation was based on the wisdom of his actions. He had orchestrated the rapid cooperation with the House of the Chaotic Storms, a testament to his shrewd negotiation skills. In that moment, as they beheld him once more, his commanding and formidable presence left no doubt about his extraordinary status.
The last individual to enter their presence remained largely unfamiliar to those assembled. His countenance bore a cold, peculiar quality that initially evoked no distinctive impression. However, upon closer contemplation, an unsettling realization settled in—the audience had recently gazed upon him, yet his visage had slipped their collective memory, as though he defied recollection.
Such an occurrence held two plausible explanations. First, he could be practicing an exceptionally obscure martial art, one that could influence and distort perception. Second, his inherent strength might exist at a level that transcended their comprehension.
As representatives of the five clans, they instinctively favored the notion that his martial art was the enigmatic factor. It was more palatable than accepting the idea of an individual exceeding their collective strength.
For the three emissaries of Ling-Bao Hall, their extraordinary prowess was undeniable. Their presence exerted an immediate, chilling influence upon the room, sending a shiver through the atmosphere.
However, unbeknownst to the representatives of the five clans, Ning Biluo himself was filled with astonishment. His amazement was not directed at the envoys of the five clans but rather at Feng Zhiling, also known as Feng Monarch.
Ning Biluo was privy to Feng Monarch's true identity: he was Lord Cha, or Cha Eun Xiao, the son of Cha Nantian, the renowned General Cha. This man's overwhelming dominance at this very moment exceeded even the grandeur of his illustrious father.
Even the Great General Cha, who once commanded legions of soldiers and inspired awe throughout the Land of Han-Yang, had never wielded such potent authority as his son..
Chapter 383: Overwhelming! Overwhelming! . . . n.-0VeLbInWith each approaching footfall, their hearts grew heavier, though they couldn't quite fathom the reason behind their increasing unease. It was as if those steps were all treading on their very hearts. The sound indicated that there were three men walking toward them. One led the way, with the other two flanking his sides. They moved in unison, their pace seemingly ordinary, yet there was an underlying sense of something unusual. For inexplicable reasons, an oppressive aura enveloped the room. Of the three, it was the man at the forefront who walked with unwavering determination. His steps were resolute and decisive, and he advanced toward them without hesitation. Each footfall seemed to resonate with an unyielding force, an overwhelming aura of fierceness. Their very presence felt overpowering, as though they would traverse any obstacle in their path, whether it was a mountain or a mountain of swords. There was no hesitation, no pause. If a mountain stood before him, he would tread it down, and if it were a mountain of swords, he would shatter them all. The sound of the steps grew ever closer, resembling the war drums of a conquering army. They were charged with an overwhelming pride. In response to this imposing presence, the ten men in the VIP hall suddenly sat up straight, instinctively acknowledging the gravity of the situation. The man continued his casual approach, seemingly not utilizing any martial arts. His footsteps remained ordinary, yet everyone in the room understood that the one who could make such strides must be an extraordinary and formidable individual. This was no ordinary man. In the entrance of the inner hall, a shadow darted, and a figure appeared without a sound. Standing tall, his gaze swept over everything with a sense of cold disdain and scorn. It was as though he regarded those present as courtiers, and they felt the weight of his authority. In that moment, all ten individuals in the room felt the power of a much greater man, and the man himself exuded an air of accustomed command. With measured steps, the enigmatic figure moved towards the most opulent chair and seated himself, displaying an air of unshakeable composure. There was no pretense, and his actions seemed entirely uncontrived. Upon taking his seat, he gazed southward with eyes that radiated an aura of coldness, indifference, disdain, and disgust. His posture exuded an air of nobility and distinction, undeniably regal. His movements were marked by their casual yet commanding demeanor, an unmistakable embodiment of authority. The collective impression he left upon those present was of a king in their midst. Regardless of the circumstances, he remained the conqueror, the sovereign. Wherever he stood, he transformed the place into a throne, and it was as if the king resided where he did. Silently, he occupied the chair, offering no words. His next action was to leisurely cross his legs, displaying a demeanor of utmost ease and casual confidence. Standing steadfastly behind him were Ning Biluo and Liu Changjun, their posture unwavering, their countenance devoid of emotion. In their eyes, there was a detachment, a cold indifference that appeared as if they would remain unaffected even if the lives of all others in the room were to be extinguished. The three of them had arrived and demonstrated their authority to the representatives of the five clans, communicating a stern message without uttering a single word. There was no need for speech; their presence alone conveyed more than words ever could. As the Monarch, Feng Zhiling had not spoken, and neither Ning Biluo nor Liu Changjun would be the first to break the silence. The representatives of the five clans, stunned and fearful, were equally reticent. They had witnessed the strength of Ling-Bao Hall, for the trio's arrival had underscored the organization's might. Recognition flashed in the eyes of the representatives. They identified Liu Changjun, the assassin with the coldest countenance. Once one of the world's top ten assassins, he now served within Ling-Bao Hall, having overseen the security during the auction. In the face of the Sunlight Sect's attempted aggression to seize the Supreme Dan bead, Liu Changjun had displayed unwavering resolve. His valor, coupled with his formidable skills, had made him a significant figure. The man seated at the center, known to them as the true head of Ling-Bao Hall, was Feng Zhiling. He had briefly appeared during the auction, although his full visage had remained concealed. Little was known about himhis origins, identity, master, background, or his level of cultivation remained a mystery. His reputation was based on the wisdom of his actions. He had orchestrated the rapid cooperation with the House of the Chaotic Storms, a testament to his shrewd negotiation skills. In that moment, as they beheld him once more, his commanding and formidable presence left no doubt about his extraordinary status. The last individual to enter their presence remained largely unfamiliar to those assembled. His countenance bore a cold, peculiar quality that initially evoked no distinctive impression. However, upon closer contemplation, an unsettling realization settled inthe audience had recently gazed upon him, yet his visage had slipped their collective memory, as though he defied recollection. Such an occurrence held two plausible explanations. First, he could be practicing an exceptionally obscure martial art, one that could influence and distort perception. Second, his inherent strength might exist at a level that transcended their comprehension. As representatives of the five clans, they instinctively favored the notion that his martial art was the enigmatic factor. It was more palatable than accepting the idea of an individual exceeding their collective strength. For the three emissaries of Ling-Bao Hall, their extraordinary prowess was undeniable. Their presence exerted an immediate, chilling influence upon the room, sending a shiver through the atmosphere. However, unbeknownst to the representatives of the five clans, Ning Biluo himself was filled with astonishment. His amazement was not directed at the envoys of the five clans but rather at Feng Zhiling, also known as Feng Monarch. Ning Biluo was privy to Feng Monarch's true identity: he was Lord Cha, or Cha Eun Xiao, the son of Cha Nantian, the renowned General Cha. This man's overwhelming dominance at this very moment exceeded even the grandeur of his illustrious father. Even the Great General Cha, who once commanded legions of soldiers and inspired awe throughout the Land of Han-Yang, had never wielded such potent authority as his son..
