But with the nearest sword cultivators already closing in and cries of battle rising behind them once more, Zhong Haoran raised a hand, turned his right hand into a sword, and held it to his throat. In a hoarse voice, he shouted, "Zhong Zhan! Are you leaving or not? If you refuse to leave, this old man will die here and now!!"
"Martial Uncle..." Zhong Zhan gave a bitter smile. "Stop trying to fool your disciple! You handed command of the Creation Sect over to the disciples beneath you—wasn't that because you had the same idea as I did?"
As he spoke, Zhong Zhan turned to Fei Yunshu, who had likewise remained behind. "Yunshu, you stationed your own Creation Sect forces north of Xuntian City while following us here. Hadn't you also seen through Martial Uncle's intentions?"
"This old man's lifespan is nearly at its end. It makes no difference where I die!" Zhong Haoran said calmly. "But you are different. You still have years left in your lives, and the Creation Sect's future depends on you! This old man failed True Person Xiao's trust and has no face to meet him in the Yellow Springs. You must not follow in this old man's footsteps..."
Unfortunately, Zhong Zhan seemed unmoved. He looked coldly at Zhong Haoran and said, "Martial Uncle, what has been failed has already been failed. What must be done still has to be done. There is no need for you to threaten your disciple. I did not listen to you back then, and I will not listen now..."
Gritting his teeth, Fei Yunshu flew to Zhong Haoran's side and shouted, "Martial Uncle, since none of us intends to leave, why make such a fuss? Let us charge in and kill as many sword cultivators as we can..."