Shattering Three Fate Forms

"Good."

The warm smile in Yun Heng's eyes vanished completely at that moment.

He said no more.

When dealing with any outsider bold enough to face a direct descendant of the Cloud Clan, the best response had never been words, but strength.

He stepped forward with his left foot, and a ring of fine cracks exploded across the gravel beneath it.

The blood qi of the Blood Exchange Peak surged forth with that single step.

Unlike the flamboyant, scorching blood qi unleashed by Jinghai martial artists, Yun Heng's blood qi carried the distinctive chill of the Cloudborne Spirit Vein.

It was the aura of spiritual blood refined through generations of inheritance, as cold and clear as snowfields atop high mountains.

Blood qi steamed from every pore of his body, forming a layer of blue-gray mist that enveloped the space within three feet of him. As the mist churned, vague beastly shapes rose and fell within it.

Standing beneath the eaves of the wooden house, Zhou Chen unconsciously clenched his saber hilt. The scar left by his severed finger pressed a white mark into the rough handle.

He had seen Upper City cultivators strike, and he had personally witnessed that slaughter beneath the Cloudscreen Wall. Yet the pressure of Yun Heng's blood qi was even more tyrannical than he remembered.

Lu Chen went completely rigid, his back pressed against the wooden doorframe. He did not even dare breathe too hard.

He was only a boy who gathered herbs. Facing the pressure of a Blood Exchange Peak cultivator was like a rabbit being watched by a fierce tiger; the fear rising from the depths of his marrow nearly made him unable to stand.

Yet he gritted his teeth and refused to collapse, because he did not want to embarrass himself before Senior