The entire rocky plain seemed to tremble at its roar.
It took heavy strides, charging toward Qin Feng like a runaway heavy-duty war machine.
With every step, the ground cracked apart. It raised its massive Obsidian Warhammer high, bringing it crashing down with a shriek that tore through the air.
This single strike, concentrating all its power, was enough to smash a small Interstellar Landing Ship into scrap metal.
Twelve years ago, faced with this attack, Qin Feng could only scramble to dodge.
But this time.
Qin Feng didn't even shift his feet.
He simply stood his ground, assuming a fighting stance. Facing the mountain-crushing blow, he slowly raised his right hand, clenched it into a fist, and then—gently pushed forward.
Golden Majesty.
There was no world-shaking burst of energy, no terrifying gale from his fist.
Qin Feng's movement seemed almost casual, like he was merely brushing dust off his clothes.
