The young man in White Robe suddenly turned on him, nearly hysterical.
Li Yun was dumbfounded.
How had he mocked him?
What the hell?
Had this kid lost his mind?
But before Li Yun could think further, much less explain, the seven or eight guards behind the young man in White Robe charged at him.
Well, damn.
Every one of those seven or eight guards was a Xiantian Martial Artist.
Their cultivation was nothing special—not one had opened more than forty apertures, and their True Qi was all below mid-grade—but they were still Xiantian Martial Artists. Every one of them was even stronger than Xiuhe.
Here they came, all against him alone. If he had not had the skills to protect himself, would these brutes not have cut him down for no reason at all?
What a fucking mess.
The thought flashed through Li Yun's mind, and his temper flared.
To hell with everything else. He drew his saber.
If you want to kill me, I'll kill you first.
His blade flashed. The Divine Wind Saber Art burst into brilliant arcs of Blade Light; wind and smoke rose, and a dragon gave a long cry.
In an instant, a wind dragon wrought from Blade Light roared past.
The seven or eight guards were blown apart on the spot by Blade Light, their blood splashing across the ground. Only the young man in White Robe remained, frozen where he stood. The anger and resentment on his face had turned to terror.
He snapped to his senses!
He regretted it!
He had never imagined that picking some unlucky soul to vent his anger on would mean kicking an iron plate.
One strike had wiped out the entire squad of Xiantian Martial Artist guards his Lineage had paid a fortune to assemble for