Chapter 30: Feels Weaker Than the Archangel

Zhou Yun didn’t hesitate—he pulled back the linen robe and yanked the stopper from the flask.

“Stay where you are!!!” The Ark Sect’s leader suddenly raised his voice, his powerful psychic energy striking Zhou Yun’s mind directly.

Psychics can project their formidable mental power through sound, releasing hypnotic tones that manipulate thought and body.

This is a common method of psychic use, and clearly the Ark Sect’s leader was deeply versed in it.

The hypnotic, authoritative voice echoed in Zhou Yun’s mind, briefly paralyzing his body under its influence.

But before that, he had already pulled the stopper from his Pocket Tornado.

A gray-black tornado roared out of the flask, swelling instantly to fill the entire corridor.

The hurricane, sharp as blades and heavy as hammers, made the Ark Sect’s leader stagger, his focus scattering.

Zhou Yun seized this moment, regaining control of his body.

He raised his Pocket Tornado and unleashed an even fiercer vortex within the narrow corridor.

A hurricane strong enough to overturn a small house raged through the corridor barely wide enough for two or three people to walk side by side.

Everything before Zhou Yun was swallowed by gray-black wind; the Ark Sect’s leader vanished into the storm, which slammed against his face with brutal force, making his eyes sting shut.

Windows beside the corridor shattered under the pressure, and chunks of plaster fell from the trembling walls.

Zhou Yun quickly pulled the Psychic Cap from his fourth-dimensional pocket and placed it on his head.

He focused his mind—and his figure vanished from the corridor in an instant.

When he opened his eyes again, Zhou Yun stood in the small courtyard outside the house.

The Ark Sect members in the courtyard were startled by his sudden appearance and drew weapons from beneath their robes.

But Zhou Yun’s gaze swept over them, and the mechanical hand atop his head swept with him.

Boom!!!

The Ark Sect members collapsed as if struck by invisible giant fists, falling to the ground unconscious.

Zhou Yun looked up toward the second-floor corridor.

The black hurricane he had unleashed from his Pocket Tornado filled the entire corridor.

As the wind pressed inward, the entire building shook uncontrollably, windows cracking one by one.

Finally, the second-floor corridor wall could no longer contain the hurricane—it was torn apart, shards of low-grade pulpwood, cheap steel-ceramic, and brick flying wildly in the gale.

“Whoo!!!”

A gasp rose from within the second-floor hurricane, thick with fury.

“You skin-clad assassin—are you a servant of the Star Demons?!”

A clear, youthful voice, burning with rage, pierced through the tornado—likely around twenty years old.

The tornado began to sway and tremble.

The hurricane, powerful enough to topple a small house, became like a lump of gray-black clay, grasped and twisted by invisible hands.

Then, it was hurled straight at Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun remained expressionless, revealing the flask beneath his robe.

The raging hurricane instantly dissolved into gentle breezes, drawn back into his Pocket Tornado.

Zhou Yun looked toward the second-floor corridor.

The outer wall there had been completely torn open, revealing a hole the size of a small car.

The Ark Sect’s leader stood within the hole, looking down at Zhou Yun.

The hurricane had torn away her hood, revealing her true face.

It was the face of a woman in her twenties, with features between East Pacific and Europid, her eyes dark with faint blue undertones, as if symbolizing her psychic power.

She had long, smooth black hair falling to her waist; beneath the strands, her left cheek bore a tattoo written in Low Gothic letters.

Too far away to read the script, Zhou Yun couldn’t determine whether this woman was a traitor.

The leaders of Gene Thieves Sects are often the most human-looking members of their cults—only at extremely close range could Zhou Yun judge by appearance alone.

But the Ark Sect’s leader clearly had no intention of giving Zhou Yun time to observe.

Her pupils contracted sharply, the blue portion expanding; the air around her turned icy, frost forming on walls, floor, and even midair in ways that defied physics.

“Stay where you are!” The Ark Sect’s leader raised her voice again, her authoritative, hypnotic tone flooding Zhou Yun’s ears.

Simultaneously, frost across the ground spread like thorny brambles toward him.

Zhou Yun, prepared, clamped his teeth and forced himself past the dizziness, overcoming the hypnotic voice.

Zhou Yun focused his attention on the space behind the Ark Sect’s leader—

His figure vanished again.

The Ark Sect’s leader froze, clearly unprepared that Zhou Yun had broken her hypnotic voice on the first try.

Without immense willpower, prolonged training, or psychic resistance, no one could so easily resist her honed hypnotic tone.

“Boom!!!”

Before she could fathom how Zhou Yun had broken her voice,

a thud echoed behind her—her back struck as if hit by an air hammer.

She lost her balance and tumbled from the hole in the second-floor wall, falling toward the ground.

She gritted her teeth, suppressing dizziness, channeling psychic energy to slow her descent.

After landing steadily, she snapped her head up at Zhou Yun and commanded with all her will: “Get down here!!!”

But this time, Zhou Yun merely shook his head—as if unaffected.

The Ark Sect’s leader stared.

“What are you?! How did you resist my hypnotic voice?!”

“What kind of psychic resistance is this?!”

She sensed this man had undergone no psychic resistance training and possessed no psychic power himself.

He had resisted her hypnotic voice purely through raw willpower and innate psychic resistance.

How was this possible?!

Unless an immensely powerful psychic had spent endless hours projecting their will into his mind, forging his psyche through constant psychic and foreign-will hammering,

a non-psychic’s resistance could never withstand her hypnotic voice.

Zhou Yun glanced at the winged figure within his Bai Guang—suddenly understanding the origin of his psychic resistance.

Since his transmigration, this self-proclaimed St. Gilles, an entity from the Warp, had frequently projected his will into Zhou Yun’s mind.

This act was no different from hypnotic voice projection.

Once accustomed to it, the Ark Sect’s leader’s feeble psychic assault meant nothing.

Like a single drop of water merging into the boundless psychic ocean of the winged figure in Bai Guang—it could not affect Zhou Yun, immersed within it.

“Feels weaker than the Archangel’s psychic power,” Zhou Yun said seriously, staring at the Ark Sect’s leader.

(End of Chapter)