Chapter 561: Are You Sure It's Not Poison?

Under the continuous compression of Yang Fei's True Qi, the distilled gas shrank steadily, eventually transforming from the size of a soccer ball to that of a ping pong ball after more than ten minutes.

At this point, it was still a mass of gas, just highly concentrated.

Qin Yanyang noticed sweat beads forming on Yang Fei's forehead and that his face had turned somewhat pale; she couldn't help feeling distressed, her hands itching to hold his.

She remembered that as long as they held hands, their True Qi could circulate together, lending strength to one another.

However, Yang Fei's palms were occupied with compressing the mass of gas, leaving no chance for her to grasp his hand.

As for Kong Yuren, he had long been dumbfounded by this bizarre and godlike spectacle.