On the East Sea, a figure in a green robe splits the waves, shattering the surf—his fist thunders across ten thousand li of empty sky.
Andrew Han strides atop the waves, his right fist held before his chest, brimming with boundless intent.
His right fist, wrapped in a mysterious, swirling wind, shifts form midair—phantom shadows flicker, elusive and lethal, impossible to track.
But—
Three Great‑Class Specters stand here; why should they fear a mere Martial Lord? Even if Andrew Han’s Inspiration is utterly unlike that of ordinary martial artists, it means little to them.
"Hehehe."
"Let’s kill him."
The two Great‑Class Specters on either side exchange glances, their laughter and curses mingling like lovers’ whispers—sinister, chilling, and they advance toward Andrew Han.
Their ghostly bodies ripple, stirring consciousness itself!
Their Specter energy surges, contaminating the sea!
Even the blue sea’s surface turns a haunting black, hiding countless horrors. What happens next is enough to scare ordinary people to death—out of the pitch‑black water, innumerable twisted, jet‑black arms reach upward!
The East Sea has changed.
Hundreds of meters of ocean have been utterly transformed.
“Hiss!” “Hiss!” “Hiss!”
A hellish nightmare unfolds before the world—wails echo across heaven and earth as countless withered arms claw upward, revealing the true terror of the blood‑drenched Great‑Class Specters!
Even satellite imagery is hit by inexplicable interference.
At this moment—
Andrew Han is just a hundred meters away from them.
A mere hundred meters apart, yet it feels like a chasm. Even Martial Lords, confronted with this region of pure Specter energy and black arms, would be shaken and hesitate to approach.
“Ridiculous!”
"Such twisted, illusory consciousness—hardly worth mentioning. Do you think you’re fit to rage before me, Andrew Han?" Andrew lifts his head, voice booming through the clouds, his right fist crashing forward, pressuring the Great-Class Specters across the void.
He follows up immediately.
His posture is like a towering mountain, shoulders bearing the weight of a hundred thousand tons. Swathed in his green robe, Andrew Han steps forward with his right foot, slow but utterly dominant.
Internal Power floods into his right foot, Inspiration surges and fuses!
He stomps down on the pitch-black sea—ten thousand troops roar in unison!
Time seems to slow, white clouds appear to freeze. All eyes are drawn to his simple right foot, carrying a sea-stabilizing divine pillar’s unfathomable intent, descending upon the waves.
"Stamp out Specter energy!"
"Trample a thousand armies and ten thousand horses!"
His right foot lands, Internal Power surges and erupts, unleashing an incomparable brilliance.
It’s as if, atop the East Sea, a wild, expanding ring of light erupts—charging in all directions, yet with a steady, unyielding force, spreading majestically across the ocean.
A great resonance echoes forth!
Phenomena beyond imagination!
Andrew Han in his green robe steps forth, shattering the hellish region conjured by Specter energy. As the ring of light expands, every pitch-black withered arm instantly turns to ash and vanishes, as if nothing had happened—the blue sea remains as before.
Boom!
The sea splits to both sides, a straight path opens up. Andrew Han strides ashore at Angler’s Isle, his Inspiration steady as a sea-stabilizing immortal pillar, smashing forward and shaking the five lakes and four seas, suppressing eight wildernesses and ten thousand li.
Inspiration erupts, the air roils violently.
Every gesture, every step, is extraordinary.
Bathed in green radiance, his figure instantly clashes with the two Great-Class Specters—his cannon-like fists rumble, his sweeping palms drive a three-thousand-li wind, surging forth with an imperial, unspoken might.
Thunderous boom!
His right fist strikes out.