"Damn it, this just got troublesome."
Blood Daoist hurriedly dodged Xiaoyao's killing sword strike, his face turning exceptionally grim.
He had originally thought victory was assured, but now it seemed a variable had emerged—and that variable was Ye Lin.
Looking to the other side, the three great elders were battling Nangong Yunfeng. Yet a closer look made it clear that although all four attacked fiercely, none of them could possibly take the others' lives.
"Damn you three, you ungrateful traitors!"
Seeing this, Blood Daoist flew into a rage. He was no fool; he could see the trick at a glance.
In the end, those three elders still harbored a trace of attachment to the Nangong Family and had not truly gone all out.
The entire affair had been nothing more than going through the motions.
"Since that is how you want it, don't blame me."
Blood Daoist hardened his heart and sliced open his own arm. At once, blood streamed from the wound.
Blood Daoist guided the blood through the air, drawing an extraordinarily bizarre symbol.
"Oh? You still dare let your mind wander in front of me?"
Xiaoyao spoke with amused interest. This was practically treating him as if he did not exist. The next instant, sword light flashed, and Blood Daoist screamed as a withered arm fell toward the ground.
With one slash, Xiaoyao had severed one of Blood Daoist's arms. Yet though agony covered Blood Daoist's face, he still persisted in drawing some sort of symbol.
"Die."
Xiaoyao was enraged. This was not merely failing to take him seriously—this was never having taken him seriously at all.
This was enough to infuriate him to death.
At that moment, time itself seemed to freeze all around them. Blood Daoist looked at the golden gateway before him and revealed