At those words, Yang Wudi's halberd spun halfway around in his hand, only for Zhou Xuan to hold it down.
The Square fell silent for two breaths.
Zhou Xuan raised his right hand.
Thinking he was about to speak, Yang Wudi held his breath.
Zhou Xuan pressed his fingers together and swept them horizontally before him.
It was a light, effortless motion.
There was barely a ripple of spiritual power, not even a sound.
The instant his hand fell, the Spirit Transformation pressure filling the sky split apart before him.
It divided straight down the middle.
The pressure split without so much as a tremor. The left half dispersed westward, the right half drifted eastward. The disciples in the Square, crushed until they could barely breathe, felt the weight lift from their shoulders.
The five envoys from the Central Province instinctively retreated half a step.
The purple-robed cultivator narrowed his eyes. He had seen it clearly. Something deeply restrained lay hidden in that sweep. It had released little of its edge, yet the lightest touch had sliced apart the combined pressure of five early Spirit Transformation cultivators.
Zhou Xuan withdrew his hand and looked up at the five figures in midair.
"Where are the goods?"
The purple-robed cultivator's face twitched.
The Blue-Robed Female Cultivator behind him flushed red. She was about to speak when a look from him stopped her.
"City Lord Zhou certainly puts on airs." The purple-robed cultivator slowly descended, stopping about ten feet above the ground without landing fully. "Our lord personally penned the agreement, in black and white. The handover of supplies calls for basic courtesy. Remote though the Northern Lands may be, surely you understand the rules?"
"The rules?"
Zhou Xuan repeated those words.
Yang Wudi heard the change in Zhou Xuan's tone. There was