"Temple Master—!!"
A stifled, mournful cry erupted from within the temple.
Yu Huayuan's pupils contracted. His entire aura exploded outward, his withered frame seeming to grow taller in an instant. His Daoist robe billowed, and his hair and beard stood on end.
"Chen Sheng, you cur! How dare you!!"
Chen Sheng acted as if he hadn't heard. He held up Daoist Qingxu—limbless and barely breathing, like a mangled trophy—and his voice was terrifyingly placid and indifferent.
"I will ask one last time…"
"Surrender, or die?"
"Fiend! Qingfeng Temple would rather die than surrender!"
Yu Huayuan roared, his voice resolute and echoing within the array.
"Very good."
Chen Sheng gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.
But in the next instant, the biting Sword Intent coiling around him suddenly surged.
