Gasps turned into horrified silence.
Not the stunned awe of a dramatic reveal—but the raw, gut-punch kind of silence that came when reality shattered expectations.
No one—not even his enemies—had really thought he'd do it.
They thought he was bluffing.
Maybe a dramatic speech. A deflection. A flashy gesture to distract the crowd and regain control of the narrative.
But this?
This was madness.
Someone whispered hoarsely, "He actually did it…"
Another voice—shaky, disbelieving—followed.
"He tore it out… with his bare hands…"
They stared at the blood dripping from his fingers.
At the faint, golden-white glow of the Dao Bone pulsing in his grasp—beautiful, pure, sacred.
And soaked in his own blood.
Even the wind stilled.
Because one should know—removing a Dao Bone wasn't just painful.
It was catastrophic.
The act didn't just threaten the body. It shattered one's cultivation foundation.
