Wu Feng's Impotent Rage

Ning Zhiyuan practically rolled off his horse.

The Sect Master of the Nine Treasures Glazed Tile Sect was panting like an ox, his legs trembling. After a sleepless night of taut nerves, he slumped against his horse as though someone had pulled out his spine.

He showed none of the bearing or presence befitting a level 69 Soul Emperor.

Banner Bro's mouth twitched at the sight.

What era was this? A Sect Master was still traveling on horseback? A horse made of Soul Power? Just to make me laugh?

Didn't he have a Soul Tool?

But Banner Bro kept that complaint to himself. After all, the man bore the title of Sect Master of the Nine Treasures Glazed Tile Sect.

Though... he really was making a spectacle of himself.

Elder Wind Hammer and Red Flame, whose nerves had been stretched taut all this time, saw their Sect Master like this. Far from daring to help him, they looked as though they had been pardoned.

"Since the Sect Master is here, we'll leave the important task of hosting our honored guests to you."

Elder Wind Hammer wiped the cold sweat from his brow and exchanged a knowing glance with Red Flame. "We two have some sect matters to attend to. We'll take our leave."

Before he had even finished speaking, the two used their Soul Skills and vanished from this scene of trouble in a flash.

They fled as though demons were chasing them.

The disciples surrounding them, Soul Tools in hand and braced for a fight, were even more at a loss.

"Should we... leave the sect?" one disciple muttered despairingly. "The way things look, there's no way we can hold them off."

"Get back inside, all of you! Stop embarrassing yourselves!" Ning Zhiyuan finally caught his breath. Supporting his