Bei Lin lay paralyzed on the ground, fresh blood streaming from his body.
His injuries were so severe that he could not rise for the moment.
He too stared at Su Yi in terror, his pupils filled with disbelief.
He could not imagine what kind of being this young sword cultivator was, to be so terrifying.
"No wonder Lixin Sword House has been so fearless. So they invited a helper like you."
Meng Che, the Witch Clan's chieftain, spoke up, breaking the oppressive silence.
His gaze was cold and profound as he stared at Su Yi. "I would very much like to know whether Lixin Sword House truly does not fear tearing all ties with my clan."
Su Yi smiled. "Sword cultivators do not fear death, so why would they fear such grating threats?"
As he spoke, he took a step forward and swept his gaze across the crowd. "If you refuse to accept this, step forward!"
Those lightly spoken words brought immense pressure upon everyone present.
Likewise, his domineering posture thoroughly enraged the Witch Clan's prominent figures.
"Young man, do you dare state your name?"
The gaunt Grand Priest, Mu Yang, spoke.
This young sword cultivator was too overbearing, seeing no one else in his eyes, arrogant to the point of lawlessness.
Yet the more he acted this way, the more abnormal it seemed.
Su Yi put away his wine jug and lightly stroked the bamboo sword with his fingertips. "Since you did not know before, there is no need for you to know now. When you admit defeat, I will naturally tell you."
At the side, Wu Qing's emotions surged.
This was Witch Clan territory, yet after Grandmaster arrived, he behaved as though he had entered his own back garden—idle as drifting clouds, calm and unhurried, treating those