Song Qingshu snorted and took a step forward. At once, seven Daoist priests barred his way with swords in hand.
With Xiaolongnü in his arms, he had no free hands to strike. He could only stamp his foot against the ground. The seven men immediately felt as though an earthquake had struck. The hard marble floor rippled like waves beneath them, and they lost their footing, tumbling to the ground as their swords scattered everywhere.
Though the Quanzhen disciples had faced many formidable foes, they had never seen such overwhelming force from a single stomp. Zhang Zhiguang cried out, "Xuanji, Yao Guang, strike from behind!"
Although Zhang Zhiguang belonged to the faction opposed to Yin, he was still a Quanzhen disciple and understood that without the hide, where could the fur cling? Besides, Yin Zhiping's fate was uncertain now. If he could seize this opportunity to earn great merit, the position of next sect leader would surely be his.
Song Qingshu thought, Shout all you like. I'll simply force my way out. As for Ouyang Feng and Qiu Qianren, their martial arts were formidable enough that escaping would not be difficult. There was no need for him to worry about them.
Holding Xiaolongnü, he took two steps forward. When another seven Daoist priests wheeled around to block him, he immediately used the same tactic and stomped on the ground again. Yet, having learned from their companions' experience, these seven did not rush forward with swords raised. Instead, they swiftly shifted and exchanged positions, darting past him.
Even though the seven had practiced the formation for years and moved with great speed, cries of pain still rang out. Two Daoist priests had been struck by the force transmitted through the ground—one injured at the waist, the other with a broken leg—and