At that moment, a dense killing intent spread through the little village. Shrouded in mist, it looked like a paradise on earth, a haven beyond the world.
Perhaps the cultivators who had rushed over had given Zhou Zeyu enough confidence, or perhaps there was another reason.
The fear vanished from his face, replaced by a defiant sneer. He looked at the young man in the seat of honor, whose hand had lifted slightly, and spoke with open disdain.
"Sect Master Luo, if you lower your hand now and have someone pick up the Storage Bag on the ground before leaving, I can pretend I saw none of what happened earlier."
"Of course, you can refuse. But then don't blame me for showing you, the Sect Master of a superior sect, no respect!"
As he finished speaking, Cloudveil Waterside Pavilion cultivators wielding all manner of weapons surged into the hall like a tide, surrounding Luo Yi and Wei Beichen at his side.
Once they had blocked every route of escape, they did not attack at once. Instead, they looked toward their Young Master.
It seemed that, at a single command from Zhou Zeyu, they would cut the young man and his companion to pieces.
"Not bad!"
Zhou Zeyu took in the Cloudveil Waterside Pavilion cultivators' movements and nodded in satisfaction.
"Will you have them slit their own throats to atone before the spirits of my Tianyan Sect's fallen disciples?"
"Or must I send all of you on your way myself?"
Luo Yi seemed oblivious to the threatening cultivators around him. He continued to look at Zhou Zeyu, his expression calm.
Seeing that the young man in the seat of honor would not give up until he reached the Yellow River, Zhou Zeyu lost the last of his patience.
He waved to