It had to be known that when facing Li Ao, the Holy Son of the Late Saint God Realm,
ordinary cultivators would have long since been scared out of their wits. How could they remain so calm and composed?
When Li Ao saw Yang Lingtian finally appear, he let out a cold snort through his nose. The disdain and contempt in his eyes grew even more pronounced.
"You're that Rogue Cultivator, Yang Tianling, who doesn't know when to stop courting death?"
With the bearing of a superior, he looked down at Yang Lingtian, his tone filled with scorn.
"You're merely a Rogue Cultivator, with no sect or faction behind you, yet you dare to barge into our Xuanba Sword Sect's Saintess Peak?"
"Who gave you the guts of a rabid dog to linger here?"
Li Ao's voice was like icy wind in the depths of winter, scraping painfully against people's cheeks.
He took one step forward. The void trembled, and an even more terrifying pressure crashed toward Yang Lingtian like a mountain.
"This Holy Son can see that you clearly harbor ill intentions, coveting Her Highness the Saintess's peerless beauty."
"A lowly Rogue Cultivator like you dares to lust after the Saintess? It's simply a toad yearning to eat swan meat—delusional beyond hope."
Li Ao's words were vicious, every sentence striking at the heart. He had brought humiliation to its absolute limit.
He intended to trample Yang Lingtian's dignity completely before everyone, making him lose all face.
"If you know what's good for you, kneel and apologize to this Holy Son right now. Then sever one of your arms and get out of the Xuanba Sword Sect."
"Otherwise, this place will be your burial ground today."
Li Ao's tone was grim, his murderous intent fully exposed.
It was as if