The full-force eruption of the Martial Lord Realm—how terrifying it is.
Leaving aside the lingering brilliance and aftershocks that filled the sky, the sheer thunderous roar alone had already shattered the delicate dishes on the grand hall’s round table. The sound even spread beyond the hall, crashing against the five white towers and echoing throughout the entire residential area.
If not for the dense woodlands, the sound might well have reached the very clouds.
Boom!
The two figures clashed evenly, instantly retreating to their respective positions.
"Cascade of Three Thousand Streams!"
Andrew Han extended his right palm and grasped at the air.
Everyone around instantly felt an inexplicable suffocation, sensing the omnipresent air boiling—like countless rivers converging into the Eastern Sea. This spectacle included not only the air of the grand hall but also that outside; all of it was drawn into his palm.
Seizing the air and dust, he shaped the flow of wind.
His right palm slowly opened and pressed forward.
Even a multi-story building would be forced to shift under such force.
"Andrew Han!"
"Just now, I showed you respect and refrained from using true martial force." Leonard Zhuo advanced step by step, his eyes bloodshot, wielding a colossal sword with strength comparable to a million jins. The blade crashed down upon the streams of wind, slashing toward Andrew Han’s left shoulder. "You killed my son and humiliated my Zhuo clan, acting so brazenly—now I’ll show you what true high-tier Martial Lord power looks like!"
As the patriarch of a noble family, he was always composed.
But at this moment, he was overcome with rage.
Rumble!
He had been a Martial Lord for thirty years; now his heavy sword swept forth.
The sword light, sweeping through the dust, was no longer something ordinary Martial Lords could withstand. Even a mid-tier Martial Lord would be severely wounded on the spot; one misstep, and they would be reduced to ashes.
"Press!"
"Press again!"