Just as Nangong Feiyan went to meet Dongfang Feihong, Wang Xian, standing on the mountain path, received the people below who had knocked on the formation.
What Wang Xian hadn't expected was that the cultivators coming up the mountain wouldn't arrive in a crowd. Instead, they came in twos and threes through the snow. At a glance, there were only a dozen or so.
But to those climbing the mountain, it felt no different from being surrounded by a pack of wolves.
They stared fixedly at the lone man on the mountain path. He dared to rob people on Kunlun Sword Sect's turf all by himself?
He was crazy!
With the formation between them, Wang Xian asked in a deep voice, "Who goes there?"
The mountain wind howled. For a moment, no one answered.
The newcomers weren't after a quick profit, nor were they bandits or street-corner thugs.
They'd been arguing on the mountain path for ages, yet still hadn't made a move, as if they were afraid of shedding blood.
Then the crowd parted, and an old man emerged, clad in black and wearing a fur coat.
Looking at the man on the mountain path, the old man shouted coldly, "Who are you, and how dare you rob people here in the Kunlun Mountains? Don't the Sword Sect's elders care?"
"Who goes there?"
Wang Xian paid no heed to the old man's rebuke. He waved the bamboo branch in his hand. "Are you blind? If you want to pass, pay the toll."
"If you really don't have any money, that's fine too. Each of you can take one strike from my sword. Whether I let you up the mountain will depend on my mood!"
"Don't tell me you're from Kunlun Sword Sect. Even if the Heavenly King himself showed