An overwhelming oppression enveloped him like the heavens above, every pore on his body suffocating, his demon soul trembling; he could not move a single bit.
Suffocation, despair, fear, powerlessness!
These were feelings he had never experienced before, surging out wildly from the depths of his soul.
Endless pressure rolled over from a peer, crushing mercilessly.
At this moment, Yang Ji seemed like a god, high above, invincible.
Xing Xiong plunged into deep despair, all his methods obliterated by such a pointing, by such a grasp.
The pride of being a supreme genius shattered at this moment, like glass violently bursting apart.
"Ants will always be ants, did you think the strength of the 'Primordial Demon God Formation' boosted by the 'Mark of the Demon Ancestor' could suppress me?" Yang Ji had already seen through everything, his expression maintaining its usual disdain and contempt.
But to Xing Xiong at this moment, that was a billion critical hits.
