Mo Yangrong’s face shifted—he finally clocked Lin Yun’s game.
This was blatant robbery of the Mo Clan!
…
Ancient Tower, Second Floor.
A crowd of cultivators had gathered here.
They’d heard Zhu Xu took over twenty Mahayana realm cultivators to settle scores with Mo, and many wanted to tag along for the show.
But their strength capped them—most could only reach the second floor, lacking the power to climb higher.
They’d just watched several Mo Mahayana realm cultivators flee from the third floor to the second in a panic, then bolt for the first.
Everyone was baffled—what had happened?
“Look! Look!”
The crowd stirred.
All eyes turned.
“Blimey, isn’t… isn’t that Mo Clan’s Young Master Mo Yangrong? He’s being hauled by Zhu’s lot!”
“So Mo got thrashed? Even Mo Yangrong’s a prisoner? Good grief, Mo’s taken a massive hit!”
The sight sparked a uproar.
This was city-shaking news.
…
Outside the Ancient Tower.
Clan Leader Zhu paced like a cat on hot bricks.
When the fourth-floor brawl kicked off, a Zhu Mahayana realm cultivator had slipped out, tipping him off to the trap.
So he knew Zhu had walked into an ambush.
“How’d this happen? Are all my Zhu Mahayana realm cultivators really going to perish in there?” Clan Leader Zhu’s face was pale.
“Clan Leader, look!” a Mahayana realm cultivator beside him shouted.
Clan Leader Zhu snapped his head up—Lin Yun,押着 Mo Yangrong, led the surviving Zhu Mahayana realm cultivators out.
“They’re out! They’ve made it alive!” Clan Leader Zhu gaped.
Soon, Lin Yun, Zhu Xu, and the crew reached him.
“Father, Mo’s been smashed this time! Mo Yangrong’s in our hands, my brother’s revenge is served!” Zhu Xu beamed.
“Xu’er, what… what’s this about? Didn’t they say Mo had a pile of Mahayana realm cultivators lying in wait, plus Wei Qi? How’d they lose?” Clan Leader Zhu was stumped.
“Brother Lin Yun turned it around, he beat Wei Qi, and tons of Mo’s Mahayana realm cultivators fell to him too—22 dead total, Mo’s gutted now!” Zhu Xu grinned.
“Lin Yun?”
Clan Leader Zhu stared at Lin Yun, shock roiling within.
He’d never dreamed Lin Yun was this strong.
Beating Wei Qi, Dongyuan’s top below Tribulation realm?
From now on, he’d have to reassess Lin Yun.
“Dad, we owe Brother Lin Yun big, without him, our Mahayana realm cultivators would’ve been wiped out in there, Zhu Clan would’ve been crippled—he saved us!” Zhu Xu gushed.
On the way out, he’d thanked Lin Yun loads.
He knew Lin Yun was the key to this win.
“Hero Lin Yun, for this huge favor, accept this old man’s bow!”
Clan Leader Zhu clasped his fists and bowed deeply.
He couldn’t fathom the disaster if Zhu lost all those Mahayana realm cultivators.
It’d strip their core strength, stunting new Tribulation realm cultivators for ages—those Mahayana were the seedbed.
If Mahayana realm cultivators were the backbone, Tribulation realm were the pinnacle!
“Clan Leader Zhu, you’re too kind, Mo was after me too, this was a lesson for them,” Lin Yun said.
“Still, Zhu Clan owes you a massive debt, if you ever need help or hit trouble, we’ll back you full tilt!” Clan Leader Zhu vowed firmly.
Lin Yun had saved Zhu.
And dealt Mo a crippling blow—losing so many Mahayana realm cultivators, they’d need centuries to recover.
“Clan Leader Zhu, send word to Mo’s Clan Leader, tell him to prep four thousand Tribulation Pills to ransom his son,” Lin Yun said.
He hadn’t forgotten his plan to fleece Mo.
For Lin Yun now, spirit crystals were meh—Tribulation Pills were the prize.
Once he hit Tribulation realm, he’d need them bad.
Killing Mo Yangrong gained him nothing—swapping him for rare resources was smarter.
Wasn’t Mo Clan loaded in Dongyuan?
Time to bleed them dry!
“Four thousand Tribulation Pills? Hero Lin Yun, that’s a cracker, Mo’s in for a hemorrhage—I’ll send someone now!” Clan Leader Zhu chuckled.
Tribulation Pills were clans’ prized stash, rarely parted with.
A faction’s rise or fall often tied to them—enough pills meant strong Tribulation realm cultivators.
Their value was clear.
Four thousand? No small sum!
Zhu might cough up forty or eighty million spirit crystals, but not four thousand Tribulation Pills!
They were too scarce, priceless to Tribulation realm cultivators.
Crafting four thousand took a first-turn Tribulation realm cultivator over three centuries of toil!
Mo Yangrong, held by Zhu’s crew, blanched at the number.
“Kid, you… you’re bloody ruthless, demanding Tribulation Pills for my ransom? Four thousand?!” Mo Yangrong fumed.
“What? You saying your life’s not worth four thousand?”
Lin Yun sneered, “Your only use alive is to milk Mo for cash, if you’re worthless, why keep you? Might as well off you.”
He drew his sword, no bluff in sight.
“No no no! I… I didn’t mean that, my life’s worth more than four thousand!”
Mo Yangrong flailed, forcing a grim smile.
Who’d blame him—fish on Lin Yun’s chopping block?
“Clan Leader Zhu, since Mo Yangrong reckons his life’s worth more, bump the ransom to five thousand Tribulation Pills,” Lin Yun said.
