Ming Xin's seemingly negotiable words, which actually carried an unquestionable undertone, were like a boulder cast into a tranquil lake, stirring up towering fury and humiliation within Yun Shan!
He, Yun Shan, a dignified Dou Zong, the Supreme Elder of the Misty Cloud Sect, a legend of the Jia Ma Empire—when had he ever suffered such "negotiation"? This was clearly a threat! A contemptuous insult!
Yun Shan's expression darkened until it seemed water could drip from it. The Dou Zong aura around him, which had somewhat receded upon Ming Xin's arrival, erupted violently once more.
He stared fixedly at Ming Xin, his voice like ten-thousand-year-old ice as he forced each word through clenched teeth:
"Give you face? Hmph! What if... I refuse?"
"What... will you do about it?!"
He refused to believe that, within the Jia Ma Empire, anyone could stand above a Dou Zong! The other man's movement technique might be strange, but that did not mean he truly possessed the strength to contend with him!
Faced with Yun Shan's nearly tangible killing intent and his challenge, Ming Xin remained as calm as ever. Even the gentle smile at the corner of his mouth did not change.
He lightly shook his head, as though regretting Yun Shan's foolishness. His tone remained peaceful, yet it carried the certainty of someone merely stating a fact:
"Amitabha. Young friend Xiao Yan is fated with this poor monk. Today, this poor monk will protect him no matter what."
He raised his eyes and calmly looked at the killing intent boiling around Yun Shan before adding indifferently:
"If Benefactor Yun Shan is unwilling to give this face... then by all means, try and see whether you can... take him from this poor monk's hands."
Though his words remained gentle, they contained absolute confidence and