"What?"
Tyra Tai's clean-featured eyes widened in shock.
Buzzing.
Light streamed and wind surged around him. Clad in a pitch-black windcoat, Andrew Han seemed to become the silent center of heaven and earth, grasping all things and towering above everything.
So weighty, so dazzling.
The birth of wind and light out of nowhere only highlighted Andrew Han's Venerable might.
As his aura leaked out, the entire Tai Clan manor seemed to be crushed beneath the vault of heaven.
Boom!
A rumble echoed faintly between heaven and earth.
In truth, it was not a physical sound but a roar on the level of consciousness... The clamor of waking, the lively shouts of martial practice—all vanished, frozen in place. The cold winter morning grew oppressively solemn, as if suffused with a vast, majestic authority.
It was as if a colossal cosmic cauldron had been struck.
In this seemingly ordinary morning, that resonance echoed through everyone's mind.
"What?"
"What's going on?"
Everyone was thrown into panic, at a complete loss.
From the diligent head of the Tai Clan, who sprang up in shock, his gaze filled with terror,
To the stern Martial General Realm instructor scolding clan members during morning practice, eyes wide with alarm,
Down to the leisurely gate guard, enjoying a cigarette and the pleasure of smoke curling through the air, who now felt the pressure of doomsday—his whole body frozen, the half-burned cigarette dropping to the ground in a wisp of smoke.
Watching from afar.
On the outskirts of the central city in Southridge Province, the ornate, ancient-style manor—with its carved beams and painted rafters, its refined style—fell into utter silence at this moment, as if the sky itself had muted its voice.