This was a simple matter of overwhelming power.
Han Feng's Spiritual Power was a staggering 4500 Hz, far exceeding that of an ordinary Tier Four Middle Stage Grandmaster.
After the shockwave passed, Han Feng stood as steady as a rock.
With Han Feng blocking the brunt of it, Zhao Tianlan was spared from most of the Spiritual Shock.
The pilots in the Titan Battle Armor surrounding him, however, weren't so lucky.
The violent severing of their spiritual connections had granted them a brief moment of clarity. But in the next instant, the psychic scream knocked them out cold. Blood streamed from their noses and mouths as they lost consciousness completely.
Zhao Tianlan's body trembled, his brow furrowed in obvious agony.
'I don't have time to waste with you.'
Han Feng moved with extreme speed, without a moment's hesitation.
He strode to Zhao Tianlan's X-02 Fighter and placed his right hand directly on the jet's cold fuselage.
The system prompt arrived as expected.
