Thinking this, the Red-Haired Elder believed his guess was right, and even felt a little pity for Lin Xuan. Wasn't it so? A dignified Lihe Realm cultivator—though his glory could not compare with a Dongxuan old monster's—was still someone whose stomp could make the four directions tremble, enough to be called an overlord of a region. Yet he had fallen to such a shabby state. Even he truly felt a little sorry for Lin Xuan.
"Fellow Daoist, perhaps your strength was once not weak, but now you have only a Nascent Soul body left. Can you truly not tell who is stronger and who is weaker? Why be foolish enough to smash an egg against a rock? Be sensible and leave this place. Give up this precious feng shui land before you, and this old man will not make things difficult for you."
When he said this, the old man wore an expression of compassion for heaven and pity for mankind, as though he were so kind and benevolent.
"And if Lin does not?" the Nascent Soul said coldly.
"No..."
The old man's gaze changed at once, gaining a few traces of ferocity. "Then you do not know life from death. In a moment, this old man will draw out your soul and refine your spirit."
The conversation ended there. Saying anything more would have no meaning at all. Cultivators, in the final analysis, still had to reveal the truth with their hands.
Whoever had the bigger fist was the boss. The strong preyed on the weak—this had always been so for cultivators over millions of years.
"Since you want to court death, this old man will grant your wish."
The old man did not take the Nascent Soul opposite him seriously at all. He reached out and slapped his