The sky above the valley was still trembling.
Even though the world of fist intent had already shattered, the oppressive traces of Ethan's battle still lingered everywhere.
Thick arcs of stray lightning writhing across the torn firmament, the smell of scorched air twisting in the wind, and a suffocating pressure that made every cultivator present feel as if their bones were being crushed.
Outside the valley, the cultivators below the Supreme Realm could only stare blankly.
From their perspective, everything on Ethan's side had vanished inside that massive black sphere of intent. They could only hear distant roars and feel the earth quake beneath their feet. What happened inside that sphere was beyond their perception.
Only those with monstrous mental strength—Zeon and Magnus—could barely peek inside.
"Brother Ethan…"
Zeon's fists tightened, knuckles turning white. His eyes were filled with seriousness never before seen on his face.
