Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
In the biting wind, five more people swept over in an instant. Still in midair, they had already drawn their swords and aimed them at Wang Xian, who stood in the wind.
All they needed was to distract him, even for a moment.
Watching them approach through the wind, Wang Xian shook his head.
He knew they weren't just trying to save the old man with the severed arm. They also wanted to seize the opportunity to ambush him, or at least disrupt the formation before him. He couldn't help but bark, "Are you people never going to quit? Or are you so poor you can't even afford the toll?"
The old man with the severed arm stood rooted to the spot. He couldn't understand what Wang Xian was saying—or seemed not to have heard him at all.
The three cultivators charging over simply ignored Wang Xian's words.
But when they were only two zhang from him, they sensed a fury as boundless as the heavens flare up in the burly man before them.
Wang Xian couldn't be bothered with them. He held the bamboo twig horizontally across his chest.
On the mountain path, the remaining people exchanged uneasy glances. None dared to strike first!
Before the three companions who had rushed out could engage Wang Xian, one of the others suddenly shouted in anger, "Everyone, attack together..."
With a boom, the moment someone called out the first order, the dozen or so people remaining—except for the five women—drew their swords and flew forward like moths to a flame.
They charged toward the pavilion where Wang Xian stood!
For a moment, Sword Qi crisscrossed the mountain path, and cries of battle shook the heavens.
But Wang Xian, standing outside the pavilion, closed his eyes. Just as he