The young man didn't flinch.
Instead, he calmly raised one foot and stepped forward. The snow beneath his sole cracked.
Then—
A vast soul pressure burst outward like a storm front. The surrounding snow recoiled, leaving a circular clearing of solid earth around him.
Even the attacks that had nearly reached his skin faltered.
The earth trembled. The air warped. Several weaker soul masters stumbled back, coughing up blood from the spiritual backlash.
The youth raised his right hand slowly and whispered with reverence:
"Martial Soul Possession—Glowing Feather Bow."
He gently raised a hand to his waist, and with a flash of light, a bow appeared.
It was the Glowing Feather Bow an exquisite ice-type weapon spirit. Its limbs are slender and slightly curved, appearing to be crafted from translucent, glacial crystal veined with frost-blue energy. Delicate feather motifs sweep outward along the bow's arms, shimmering with a pale luminescence as though perpetually dusted with freshly fallen snow.
The noble youth was none other than Guangling Douluo whose robe fluttered in the wind as he reached into the air and drew an invisible string—an arrow of condensed soul light formed at his fingers, blazing with a sharp cry that echoed like a hawk's call.
All attacks within ten meters froze midair, quivering in the invisible pressure before violently shattering into spark-like fragments, dissipated by the sheer pressure of his released Martial Soul.
Even the Frostfire Judgment Wheel, mid-spin and still screaming through the air, slowed… cracked… then burst like shattered glass under a divine hammer.
The battlefield fell momentarily silent.
Guangling Douluo had not yet even released a single soul ring.
Elder Bing Lan's eyes narrowed sharply, while City Lord Nalan Yan's expression darkened.
"This aura… you're not a mere nouveau riche brat."
Guangling's lips curved faintly, his voice calm but laced with hidden sharpness.
"Yes,I am not. Do you want to know who I am"
Guangling took a step forward, the force of his presence amplifying like a rising tide. The snow around him hissed into steam as nine radiant rings burst from beneath his feet—two yellow, three purple, and four pitch-black, coiling upward in perfect synchronization.
The sight of the nine soul rings, clearly marking the boundary of a Titled Douluo, sent ripples of terror through the battlefield.
City Lord Nalan Yan's breath caught in his throat. "T-Titled Douluo…" he murmured hoarsely, voice cracking under the weight of realization.
The Bing Clan warriors paled. Elder Bing Lan, eyes narrowed and body tense, made a sharp hand signal. "Retreat!" he barked, his usually calm voice laced with urgency.
But it was too late.
Guangling Douluo lifted the Glowing Feather Bow with one hand and whispered, his voice soft but echoing like divine thunder across the field:
"Fifth Soul Skill: Arrive Without Obstacles.
Fourth Soul Skill: Spatial Arrow."
His left eye, usually concealed beneath fine bangs, opened—gleaming with an eerie silver-blue radiance. The iris shifted, fractal-like, scanning across the battlefield. Heat signatures bloomed in his vision like beacons—each soul master glowing with life and desperation.
The bowstring, invisible until now, drew back with a glimmering tension. Several crystalline arrows coalesced at once, each one rippling with distorted space along its shaft—like reality itself had been bent around their form.
Fwoosh!
They shot forward faster than sound, streaking like ice comets through the air, guided by heat and fate.
The Bing Clan warriors didn't even have time to scream.
The arrows phased through walls, twisted around obstacles, and struck with pinpoint precision—chests, heads, vital points. Time seemed to pause for a heartbeat before bodies collapsed like puppets with cut strings. Crystalline frost bloomed on their corpses, delicate and cruel.
Only Elder Bing Lan managed to react in time, but even he was heavily injured . Despite the futile defence he had slammed into a distant rock formation, coughing up blood as his shoulder and ribs shattered.
A deadly silence blanketed the field.
Even the wind dared not blow.
City Lord Nalan Yan fell to his knees, his subordinates quickly following suit, heads pressed low to the snow-packed ground. Cold sweat drenched his back, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He dared not speak, dared not even lift his head.
He knew well the ways of this world.
To anger a Titled Douluo, especially one who had hidden his identity until now, was no small matter. There were stories whispered in the corners of noble courts, of families erased overnight, lineages turned to ash simply because of a moment's disrespect. Power in the Douluo Continent was law, and he was standing before a living tribunal.
He prayed, not for himself, but for his family.
Just when the weight of silence felt like it would crush him, the Titled Douluo's voice rang out, sharp and disdainful:
"Take that injured loser from here and scurry back into your rat hole of Winter City."
Nalan Yan blinked. For a heartbeat, he thought he misheard. Then it struck him—this Titled Douluo was letting him go.
His heart surged with relief, the kind that brought tears to the eyes. He was eccentric! Perhaps not cruel, or simply disinterested in petty executions. Whatever the reason, Nalan Yan wasn't going to question it.
Then the voice came again, colder and heavier:
"If you don't go…
I don't mind building a few tombs here."
That erased any last trace of hesitation.
"Y-Yes, senior!" Nalan Yan croaked, scrambling to his feet. He grabbed the unconscious Elder Bing Lan, blood still staining his robes, and motioned frantically for his men to follow.
They fled, stumbling over churned snow and debris, fleeing not like lords and elders—but like rats before the winter storm.
As he ran, Nalan Yan couldn't resist a final glance over his shoulder.
Guangling Douluo stood tall and still, his silver-blue gaze distant, the Glowing Feather Bow resting by his side like an artifact untouched by the violence it had just wrought. His expression was calm, bored even—as though the entire skirmish had been a distraction from something far more important.
The City Lord felt his chest loosen.
'He is not interested in killing me.'
He turned back moved forward to go back to Winter City with a pale face.
He would never forget this encounter.
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Author Notes: Guangling Douluo' s ( Fifth worshiper) character introduction says that he looks like a young man. For this reason he was able to act like a noble young master