Overwhelming Power! . . .
The display of power witnessed from Feng Monarch was nothing short of horrifying and awe-inspiring. Yet, the unsettling truth remained that the spectacle they had witnessed was but a fraction of the might he harbored. The unanswered question loomed heavily within their hearts, an unsettling enigma they couldn't dismiss - just how much more powerful was Feng Zhiling? The very thought of such a dreadful adversary, with unfathomable power, sent shivers down their collective spine.
It was a nightmare that defied further horrors.
"When we initially gave chase," the old man solemnly began, "we assumed that he had just attained the Sky Origin Stage. That misconception was the genesis of our downfall, a descent into a world of bloodshed and death. Feng Zhiling, a man of such terrifying capabilities, and we underestimated him. How did we ever hope to survive? It was tantamount to marching willingly into the jaws of death."
The group hung their heads in shame, for none could deny their initial arrogance.
"Under the influence of our own underestimation," the old man continued, "we were convinced that he must have been depleting his soul or life energy to propel himself at such astounding speeds."
He cast a lamenting gaze skyward. "But we failed to acknowledge that no matter the strength of one's soul or the depth of their life potential, they could never achieve speeds surpassing even the foremost cultivators of the Sky Origin Stage."
"That was a glaring mistake, one we blatantly disregarded."
"That pivotal moment should have prompted us to reevaluate our situation. We should have delved deeper into our analysis. We should have recognized that Feng Zhiling was an exceptionally capable cultivator, his power rivalling our own."
"One error led to many more. When he finally halted, the twenty-eight of us descended upon him, delivering our combined might in one fell strike. That very strike severed our avenues of escape and left us grievously wounded."
"He was biding his time, waiting for this very opportunity. He sought to coerce us into consolidating our forces, knowing that once he executed his strike, we'd be unable to disengage. That's how he managed to injure all of us simultaneously."
"As our vigor-laden strike collided with his formidable counterattack, the clash of two colossal powerhouses ensued. The stronger force emerged victorious, leaving no room for trickery. It was more perilous than a clash of spiritual qi. In our hubris, we believed ourselves to be in command, but in truth, he was the one with unwavering confidence. He had already won."
"He had been orchestrating this entire scenario, while we remained unwitting. We had already lost at that point. In the wake of that clash, our vulnerabilities were laid bare. Not to mention yourselves, even I found myself stupefied in the moment. I'm sure you all were too."
They exchanged wistful, understanding smiles and nodded in agreement.
"He capitalized on our vulnerabilities with deadly precision. Like a bolt of lightning, he moved, employing his unassailable poison strike. In mere seconds, he dispatched seven of our brothers and then made his escape."
However, a sudden realization struck the old man, causing him to halt. A sense of unease pervaded his thoughts.
"No, no, no. If the situation unfolded as you've described, Elder Zhou," one among them interjected, "then Feng Monarch must be more potent than all twenty-eight of us combined. If this were indeed the case, why would he choose to flee? He held a perfect position and had the upper hand; he could have stayed and annihilated us all, erasing his troubles forever. If he truly possessed such extraordinary strength, why, when our Lunisolar Glory was in tatters and we were wounded, did he opt to escape?"
The astute observation caught their attention, and the puzzle deepened.
"The only viable explanation is this: Feng Monarch is an exceedingly formidable adversary. His power is of such magnitude that none among us could hope to prevail against him individually. This is precisely why he could dispatch Bu Jingtian with a single blow. However, when we unite our strengths, he falls short, and that is why he chose to retreat," one man reasoned, his words embodying a modicum of clarity.
"Indeed," chimed another. "I've pondered this notion as well. Initially, Feng Zhiling's demeanor was one of nonchalance, indicative of his supreme power. He merely observed our actions, playing with us in the process. It wasn't until the cataclysmic clash of vigor forces that he unveiled his true might. Given our grievous injuries, it is reasonable to presume that he too suffered harm. Otherwise, he would not have opted to flee. After all, our Lunisolar Glory is no ordinary martial art. The collective force of all twenty-eight practitioners was concentrated within that strike. Even Elder Bu could not withstand it. Therefore..."
"That is the most plausible hypothesis we've put forth," concurred another. "Taking it a step further, it's conceivable that Feng Monarch currently grapples with profound injuries, teetering on the precipice."
"In essence, if we catch up to him now, our chances of victory may well exceed sixty percent," one man asserted with a grave intonation. "Feng Monarch must recognize his inability to vanquish us. Thus, we possess a considerably higher likelihood of triumph. Indeed, the odds are favorable enough to warrant our pursuit."
In the wake of such an overwhelming display of power, these men inadvertently modified their address when referring to Feng Monarch. Subconsciously, the terms they used had transformed.
Previously, their appellation for Feng Zhiling ranged from calling him by name to an array of derogatory terms – "bastard," "prick," "vile man," "scumbag," "motherfxcker" – reflecting the intensity of their disdain.
Now, however, they instinctively referred to him as "Feng Monarch," a title rich in respect. The astonishing might he had exhibited served as a catalyst for this transformation, bestowing upon him a position of honor they had not anticipated.
Confronted with a cultivator of such world-altering power, the indulgence of profanity merely exposed their vulnerability. Despite their intense aversion, they could not deny that Feng Monarch commanded extraordinary, awe-inspiring power.
"It is the most precious asset in the martial world," they murmured among themselves, offering an unintended tribute.
"In the Land of Han-Yang," the old man with the white beard spoke solemnly, "a powerful individual commands respect. The rules in extraordinary circumstances demand a distinct approach. Let us not delay any further. For now, there is no necessity to provide our fallen brothers with a proper burial."