The elder with the handlebar mustache stamped down hard, driving Boss Zhao's face back into the muddy water, then ground his foot against it twice.
The teeth-grating sound of bones grinding rang out along the street.
"You're trying to use the lord of the Immortal-Burying Abyss to pressure me?"
"Why don't you piss on the ground and take a good look at your reflection?"
He pointed at the surrounding rogue cultivators, who seethed but dared not speak, his face full of mockery and spittle flying everywhere.
"Heaven is high and the emperor far away. Understand?"
"That lord has countless affairs to attend to, busy purifying crystal stones. How would he have time to care whether vermin like you live or die?"
"You really think digging up a few worthless scraps makes you heroes of the Immortal-Burying Abyss?"
"Keep dreaming!"
The mustached elder bent down and patted the back of Boss Zhao's head, his tone arrogant beyond measure.
"Our Old Ancestor Taichu is one of that lord's favorites!"
"More than half the scrap from all of Central Province is delivered under the leadership of our Demon-Slaying Alliance."
"Without major sects like ours holding up the front line, the Purifier would have stopped running long ago!"
"Those rules might govern heaven and earth, but they don't govern our Taichu Immortal Vein!"
He straightened, adjusted his lavish brocade robe, and looked down on everyone from above.
"Forget taking one second-tier demon beast from you today—even if I flayed you and tore out your tendons, the lord of the Immortal-Burying Abyss wouldn't ask a single question!"
"Rules? Let me tell you something: here in Black Wind Valley, the Taichu Immortal Vein is the rules!"
At those words, the light in the surrounding rogue cultivators' eyes went out completely.
Despair spread wildly through the crowd.