Tang Shisan heard him and looked up.
He couldn't help asking Ximen Tinghua beside him, "Hey, why has this kid's aura suddenly become so subdued?"
Ximen Tinghua glanced down at his white robes, then looked at Wang Xian, who was coming from the mountains.
For a moment, he felt as if he were no more than an ordinary mortal.
The youth striding on the wind was the one who seemed immortal.
He couldn't help giving a faint smile. "The lives of all three of us are in your hands."
Wang Xian glanced at Tang Shisan and Meng Xiaolou, then shook his head.
If I weren't short on money right now, I'd stake everything I own on myself.
"Want to bet on yourself?"
Tang Shisan brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead and grinned. "Aside from your Martial Uncle, nobody here thinks you'll win!"
"I'm poor!"
Wang Xian stepped out of the mountain gate and headed toward the five-zhang-high arena, smiling. "The poor have short ambitions. I don't gamble!"
"Pfft!"
The Old Daoist, who had just taken a sip from his wine gourd, sprayed it out.
Last winter, my disciple and I were so poor our house had bare walls. How long has it even been?
The shopkeeper Qian at the Immortal Jade Pavilion in Snow City at the foot of the mountain already owed his disciple more than five hundred thousand Spirit Stones.
How was that poor?
That was getting rich overnight!
Damn, wealth was hounding them at every turn!
As Wang Xian, dressed in white as pure as snow, stepped onto the raised platform, thousands of cultivators erupted!
"Wang Xian's on the platform! Who's going to chop his head off?"
"Anyone who wants a place on the Heavenly Road, get up there!"
"Quit shouting! Do you dare