“Let me go, no other demands?” Wei Qi asked, stunned.
In his view, even if Lin Yun spared him, it’d come with a steep price—like extorting his prized treasures.
“None,” Lin Yun replied.
“Alright, I’ll swear on my soul, if you let me go, I’ll never target the Zhu Clan or seek revenge on you!” Wei Qi swore on his soul then and there.
Hearing this, Lin Yun lowered his sword, “Good, you can leave.”
A soul oath meant no worries.
Sparing Wei Qi was a bit of mutual respect between warriors—Wei Qi was fierce, without closing the gap, Lin Yun could’ve taken a real hit.
His shoulder had already caught an arrow, proof of Wei Qi’s skill.
To beat him, Lin Yun had unleashed Heaven-Shaking Hand’s second layer—against other Mahayana realm cultivators, why bother?
“Wei Qi, you promised to help my Mo Clan!” Mo Yangrong panicked as Wei Qi turned to leave.
“Mo Yangrong, I’ve done my bit, the favor’s repaid, my conscience is clear,” Wei Qi said.
Then he faced Lin Yun.
“Lin Yun, I owe you my life, that favor’s on the books.”
His tone shifted, “You’re damn strong, the toughest I’ve met at my level, but I’m not satisfied with this loss, I’ll train hard, if I get the chance, I’ll challenge you!”
“Bring it on, fighting a foe like you is worth it,” Lin Yun grinned.
“Wait for me!”
With that, Wei Qi turned and left.
As he departed, everyone knew.
From today, Dongyuan’s top below Tribulation realm had a new name!
“Hard bloke to figure out.”
Lin Yun watched Wei Qi’s back, shaking his head with a smile.
He was curious about this beast-hide-clad Wei Qi.
With his strength and fame, why the hides? Lin Yun didn’t get it—in the cultivation world, only village hunters dressed so, city folk would scoff.
It didn’t match a Mahayana realm powerhouse.
“Wei Qi, you can’t go! You… you bastard!” Mo Yangrong yelled in desperation.
He’d seen Lin Yun’s might.
He knew only Wei Qi could match him in this tower.
“Mo Yangrong, worry about yourself,” Lin Yun sneered at him.
Mo Yangrong’s pupils twitched, “Kid, what… what do you want?”
“You wanted my head before, didn’t you? So I’ll take yours—fair’s fair, right?”
Lin Yun advanced on him.
“Wake up, get him!”
Mo Yangrong roared at his four illusion-trapped lackeys.
Three snapped out, the fourth—too weak in soul-sense—stayed lost.
The three, plus the earlier-awake third-rank Mahayana realm cultivator, lunged at Lin Yun.
“Die!”
Lin Yun waved, 128 swords surged into a mighty array, blasting them.
Three second-rank, one third-rank Mahayana realm cultivators.
They teamed up against the array, but couldn’t hold—moments later, all were cut down!
The crowd gawked—Lin Yun was unreal, four Mahayana realm cultivators together, chopped like veggies?
Mo’s remaining Mahayana realm cultivators trembled, fear gripping them.
If one falls, the rest shiver!
Today was meant to crush Zhu, but Lin Yun flipped it.
Seeing his men drop, Mo Yangrong’s face turned ashen, despair creeping in!
He knew Mo was in deep now.
“Brothers, Lin Yun’s handled the big guns, let’s kill!”
Zhu Xu roared, hyped, leading his Mahayana realm cultivators at Mo’s lot.
“Kill kill kill!”
Zhu’s crew, juiced up like they’d downed a shot, flipped from defense to offense.
Mo’s Mahayana realm cultivators, morale shot, crumbled.
The Mahayana realm brawl reignited.
Lin Yun, sword in hand, streaked into the fray.
Sword arcs traced gorgeous, ruthless curves, reaping Mo’s Mahayana realm cultivators.
Same realm, yet he crushed them.
His entry flipped the tide.
“This guy’s too strong!”
“Ahh!”
“Run run run!”
Screams rang out—Mo’s remaining Mahayana realm cultivators broke, fleeing to the third floor.
“We’re after them!” Zhu Xu shouted, pumped.
Victory had Zhu and his crew buzzing.
“Zhu Xu, don’t chase,” Lin Yun called.
Zhu Xu yelled to his men, “Stop stop stop, Brother Lin Yun says no chase!”
Ignoring Lin Yun before nearly cost them everything.
Now, he listened.
To Zhu Xu, Lin Yun was a mysterious powerhouse—young, yet battle-savvy.
As the fight died down, silence settled.
Zhu lost 7 Mahayana realm cultivators, Mo lost 22!
Mo’s heavy losses would gut them.
Lin Yun, sword on back, approached Mo Yangrong.
Already injured by Lin Yun, Mo Yangrong sat pale.
He’d seen Lin Yun’s strength—even at his peak, he’d be no match.
Now, alone.
*Whoosh!*
Lin Yun’s sword pointed at him, its gleam icy.
“Touch me, and Mo Clan will hunt you down forever!” Mo Yangrong glared venomously.
Lin Yun smirked, “I’ve killed heaps of your Mahayana realm cultivators, what’s one more? Besides, our feud started at the Treasure Contest—today or not, you’d still come for me, no difference.”
With that, Lin Yun swung at Mo Yangrong.
“No! Don’t kill me!” Mo Yangrong yelped, begging.
Death’s threat stripped his pride bare.
Lin Yun’s sword paused.
“Mo Yangrong, heard your clan’s loaded? I’ll spare you—name your life’s price!”
“You… what’s that mean?” Mo Yangrong’s eye twitched.
“Simple—your life’s in my hands, want to live? Have Mo Clan pay to ransom you!” A smile curled Lin Yun’s lips.
