The Apricot-Robed True Person spoke with chilling menace as he approached, offering only a single command:
"Hand it over."
The arrogance of a century wielding divine powers had stripped him of even the most basic vigilance.
Of course, he had grounds for his arrogance. Since ancient times, attaining divine powers meant severing the mortal flesh—a divide between immortal and mortal.
Below divine powers, all were mortals, scarcely different from one another. To lesser cultivators, a casual word from him was an immortal edict. When had any mortal ever dared defy his will?
Wen Hu, too, had grown accustomed to ordering others about, for events never escaped his control.
Jiang Yang's reaction could hardly have been swifter. The instant a reflection appeared in his mystic pupils, he shot backward, retreating nearly half a li before he felt slightly reassured.
But he still knew this was far from safety. Though he had never faced a Purple Mansion True Person before, he dared not relax in the slightest.
He dared not utter a single word in answer, afraid that the other man's divine powers would seize upon it and rob him of control. He acted decisively, turning his wrist:
Clang!
The slender blade shone silver-white, smooth and straight, while the sword mark between his brows suddenly stood out.
With a light sweep of his right hand, clear radiance flared, sending a strand of Sword Qi straight forward. Meanwhile, his left hand had already secretly gripped the Painting Scroll, ready to activate it.
The Sword Qi drifted toward Wen Hu from afar, moving lazily in his eyes. He abruptly chuckled, feeling a measure of admiration, though displeasure at this sudden defiance followed close behind.
"Such nerve. You dare draw your sword before a wielder of divine powers? Among the countless Foundation Establishment cultivators, you