Yet this man's appearance was the complete opposite of his domineering name. He was incredibly short, barely over a foot tall, and hung in the air like a charred red-hot log.
Flames roiled beneath his feet, barely holding him aloft half a foot above the ground.
But even with that extra half foot, he still looked exceptionally short, like a furnace someone had mangled out of proportion.
Reddish flames, almost solid, swirled around him. The heat was scorching, and the air warped around his body with faint sizzling sounds.
His hair, eyebrows, and even the chest hair visible above his clothes were all fiery red, each strand standing on end as if it were burning. From a distance, he looked like a human-shaped blaze crackling and popping.
Standing behind him was Dongfang Chonglou, his face pale as paper, one cheek still slightly sunken, his eyes full of venomous resentment.
He gritted his back teeth, the hatred in his eyes nearly congealing into actual poison.
A crowd of Purple Mansion cultivators who had rushed over at the news surrounded the two of them, a dark mass that had clearly come to see the commotion.
"So you're Jiang Tian?"
Dongfang Batian held his nose high, his expression so dark it seemed he could drip molten iron. His voice wasn't loud, but every word rolled like muffled thunder, making people's eardrums ring.
Jiang Tian's expression didn't change. He first swept his gaze across every Entry he could extract, then, with a thought, sent several beams of light silently flying into his brow.
Li Tian narrowed his eyes. A layer of frost had settled over his gentle face as he said coldly, "Dongfang Batian! This is no place for you to make trouble!"
Before he had even finished speaking, an invisible wave of heat