He slowly rose to his feet and looked down at Ning Zhen. His level-ninety-five pressure settled precisely on Ning Zhen alone, making the Sect Master's bones creak as he struggled to breathe.
"Think it over carefully. At the Re-election Assembly a month from now, fists and feet won't have eyes. Your Sect Protecting Douluo, Yuan Lie, is old and frail. There's a very good chance he'll die in an accident on the Arena."
Qian Xunji's voice was like a demon crawling out of hell. "When that happens, the wealthiest sect in the world, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, will have no Titled Douluo to guard it. Guess what all those dirt-poor sects across the continent and those greedy imperial nobles will do? Will they tear you to pieces like hungry wolves catching the scent of blood?"
Ning Zhen's face turned as pale as paper. Cold sweat the size of beans streamed down his forehead.
Qian Xunji didn't stop with his soul-crushing words. He leaned down, pressed close to Ning Zhen's ear, and in a voice only the two of them could hear, cruelly delivered the final blow:
"What's more... Sect Master Ning, do you believe that even if I didn't make a deal with you now, and instead slapped you to death before going to seize those ten women by force, your Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect could do a thing about it?"
Despair.
A despair so deep it stole the breath from his lungs swallowed every last trace of Ning Zhen's will to resist.
That was right. In the face of absolute power, bargaining was a luxury in itself. Qian Xunji wasn't giving him a choice; this was an out-and-out death sentence!
If he refused, his sect wouldn't just fail to claim the title of the greatest in