Qing Lin's Bountiful Harvest

Xiao Ling extended his palm, and a tremendous force of suction instantly surged from it, like a bottomless vortex swallowing a hundred rivers.

The moment the suction appeared, it locked onto the First Elder, who lay sprawled on the ground, his flesh mangled and bloody. Already barely clinging to life, he had no strength to resist the pull. His battered body flew toward Xiao Ling like a kite with its string cut, crashing heavily against an invisible barrier before him.

With a flick of his finger, Xiao Ling sent a wisp of incomparably condensed Dou Qi slipping into every corner of the First Elder's body like a thread. In an instant, it sealed all of his meridians. The First Elder let out an unwilling roar, exploding with every scrap of strength he had left as his limbs twisted and struggled wildly. Yet the Power of Space surrounding him had already formed an impregnable wall, holding him firmly in place. Every movement tugged at the meridians shredded within his body, bringing piercing agony that gnawed at his bones.

He could only raise his head and stare at the indifferent Xiao Ling before him. The madness and viciousness had vanished entirely from his cloudy eyes, leaving only fear and panic that had seeped into his bones. Like prey driven into a corner, he stared fixedly at the hunter who held his life and death in his hands.

From beginning to end, Xiao Ling did not say a single word to the First Elder lying on the ground, nor did his face reveal the slightest unnecessary expression.

He merely turned slowly and looked toward Yao Ming beside him, his voice calm and without emotion. "I'll take custody of this man from here on."

After a brief pause, he added, "Settle the clan's affairs