"No, that's not right!"
"He only spoke a single word, and the Specters froze in place? What kind of technique is that?"
Even a soundwave technique couldn't possibly be so effortless.
Any technique, no matter how advanced, should leave some trace—this was as light and casual as the passing breeze.
Right before their eyes—
This went far beyond the realm of ordinary techniques.
Kevin Lin could barely breathe, nearly suffocating as a wild, absurd thought flashed through his mind: Had Andrew Han been possessed by a Specter?
Nearby,
Max Ma and the two female martial students didn’t overthink it. They were simply overwhelmed by shock and awe.
The strongest emotion was joy.
The joy of finally seeing hope, mixed with astonishment.
A moment later—
Andrew Han stopped twenty meters from Kevin Lin and the others, his face calm and unhurried, yet the atmosphere around him was charged with unyielding resolve. It was as if he swept through the world, cleansing the heavens with radiant clarity.
His eyes blazed with brilliance, fixing on the Specters with overwhelming might.
A current of power seemed to swirl around him, pressing down on all sides and establishing his dominance.
Inspiration—remote crushing!
This was a composite use of Inspiration by a true martial artist—profound and elusive, exceptionally difficult to master.
Even an ordinary Martial Lord would find it impossible to kill Specters using Inspiration alone.
For Inspiration is meant to deter... To extend this intangible sense beyond the body and probe the surroundings is already difficult. To use Inspiration to actually destroy a Specter’s ghostly form is even harder.
Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!
The eyes of all six pale Specters shone with terror and panic; their ghostly bodies trembled uncontrollably, as if they could sense the dreadful force of Andrew Han’s Inspiration.
In an instant, Inspiration enveloped them completely.
Not one of the six Specters could muster the slightest resistance—their ethereal forms began to collapse.
"Oh my god, look!"
"It’s like sunlight at dawn, blazing overhead—their ghostly bodies are fading!" The bright-eyed female martial student covered her mouth in disbelief.
Beside her,
Max Ma’s eyes widened. "Heavens above!"
All around them, the pale Specters wailed in silence, trembling violently. Panic seeped from their ghostly forms, their eyes filled with venomous resentment.
Pop!
One Specter’s body shattered completely.
A chain reaction followed—one after another, the pale Specters perished, dissolving into drifting wisps of white smoke.
Whoosh, whoosh.
A sudden gust of wind sliced through the cold, biting to the bone.
The winter wind swept away the pale Specters and brushed across their stunned faces, as if to remind them that this was no dream—it was reality.
Yet, in their eyes, Andrew Han had only stared for two brief instants—he hadn’t moved a muscle!
Powerful.
So powerful, they couldn’t even comprehend it.
The four students wore different expressions, but all showed varying degrees of shock and awe.
"Sigh."
Andrew Han let out a quiet sigh.
He hadn’t expected that killing Specters with pure Inspiration would be so absurdly difficult. Even with his extraordinary talent, it had taken him two full instants.
Composite crushing wasn’t practical for real combat at all!
If he’d simply punched them, even the wind from his fist could have slain ordinary Specters—there was no need for all this effort.
Thinking this,
Andrew Han brushed off his black windbreaker, a faint smile playing on his calm face. He looked at Kevin Lin and spoke leisurely, "Should I praise you for your vigilance, or say you’re overthinking things?"
"Ahem, ahem."
Kevin Lin, still on edge, froze for a moment, then forced a sheepish laugh. He had indeed been overthinking it. "I just didn’t get it—how did you freeze the Specters with a single word? You looked at them twice, then wiped them out just like that?"
Andrew Han smiled lightly. "Just Inspiration."
What!?
It was a truth stranger than fiction!
"Your Inspiration is that strong?" Kevin Lin’s face paled in shock; only now did the true magnitude of Andrew Han’s power hit him, like a tidal wave crashing through his heart.
"No."
Andrew Han looked slightly disappointed. "They were just too weak—should’ve died with a single glance."
Hearing this, Kevin Lin’s face darkened.
A single glance could kill?
If you’re really that strong, shouldn’t your eyes be glowing?
Kevin Lin pursed his lips, distractedly exchanged a few words with Andrew Han, and watched as that black-clad figure drifted away like a wisp of cloud. He fell silent, his gaze complicated, emotions tangled deep within.
Yes.
He knew—Andrew Han’s strength was terrifying.
Compared to the six Specters, the gulf between them was even starker, making the difference feel like heaven and earth.
After a while,
Once Andrew Han’s calm figure disappeared over the horizon, Kevin Lin and Max Ma exchanged glances, ready to leave at once.
But then—
The bright-eyed female martial student was still rooted to the spot, like a lifelike, delicate sculpture.
Max Ma was at a loss. He reminded her in a steady voice, "The Specters are all dead!"
"Yeah, the Specters are gone. Let’s get out of here." The other girl grabbed her arm and shook her gently.
Only then did she snap back to reality. She glanced at Max Ma and Kevin Lin in turn, then said blankly, "It was like there was light... flowing in his eyes!"
Light? Flowing?
Max Ma and Kevin Lin frowned—the way she phrased it sounded so strange, as if she’d been frightened out of her wits.
"Really!"
The bright-eyed girl widened her eyes. "It was like golden streams, quietly flowing in his gaze."
Golden streams?
Internal Power... Presented Liquid Internal Power of the Martial General Realm!?
Max Ma and Kevin Lin gulped in unison, their faces frozen in shock, minds reeling as if about to explode.
"So his eyes really can glow?" Kevin Lin muttered to himself.
Max Ma was so stunned he could barely speak.
Peerless Martial Artist Realm, number one among martial students... If he’s already at Peerless Martial General Realm, he could easily stand out in the Peerless Prodigy Battle.
But all that was far beyond their reach.
"Let’s go."
"We should hurry and leave—no more wasting time."
Max Ma and Kevin Lin led the way, the two female martial students following behind. After the shock faded, they began reflecting on themselves.
Such is the world of martial arts.
No matter how much you’re taught, nothing compares to the trials between life and death.
...
Vroom vroom.
The car sped into Suhe City, arriving at six in the evening. Andrew Han’s lips curled into a hopeful smile as he weaved through the bustling traffic.
He turned the steering wheel left, exiting the elevated road.
Beep beep.
He sped on, finally arriving and parking in the residential complex.
"Home!"
"Home, right away!"
Andrew Han, excited, slammed the car door and strode toward his building entrance.
Click.
Click.
He reached the entrance, but stopped with his right foot, sensing something, and turned to look at the building across.
Inside a dimly lit window—
Mo Ningli stood with hands clasped behind his back, gazing at him with a cold, indifferent stare.
Andrew Han bowed slightly. "Master."
Hmph.
Mo Ningli gave a barely perceptible nod, his wrinkled old face still cold and emotionless, then turned and walked into the room.
...
On the other side of Suhe City—
Inside a luxurious, elegant office, a cigarette butt flickered in the haze, smoke curling overhead.
"Enough!"
"What more do you want? You’re being shameless—don’t go too far!" Gao Liang’an, Suhe’s biggest real estate mogul, was on the phone.
His face was grim, jaw clenched tight.
Once commanding and decisive, Gao Liang’an now wore a furrowed brow, his features shadowed by worry and weariness.
A moment later, a faint, cold chuckle came from the phone: "Too far? Who’s too far? I don’t understand what you’re saying."
"But you’d better listen closely."
"Our Tianjian Company has always abided by the law. Don’t slander us, or we’ll sue you for defamation!"
Click.
The call was abruptly cut off. Gao Liang’an slammed down the phone, face dark as iron, closed his eyes, and took two harsh drags of his cigarette, lost in silent frustration.