“Kid, you’ve got some guts, daring to toy with us! Do you even know who we are?”
“Let us go right now, or you’ll wish you were dead!”
“Yeah, release us, or I’ll wipe out your whole family!”
The eleven Spiritists gnashed their teeth, their glares so fierce they seemed ready to tear Chu Feng apart. They were livid.
This was the second time Chu Feng had played them.
And this time, he’d outdone himself.
“I say, gentlemen, you don’t seem to grasp the situation. Right now, you’re in no position to threaten me,” Chu Feng said.
With that, he tightened his grip, and a long sword formed from spirit power appeared in his hand.
“Hahaha…”
To Chu Feng’s surprise, instead of fear, the Spiritists burst into mocking laughter at the sight of his sword.
“You think we’re all like that weakling, easily injured by you?” one sneered, glancing at the Insect-patterned Saint-cloak Spiritist—the one Chu Feng had wounded earlier.
“What’s different about you compared to him?” Chu Feng asked, dead serious.
“Different? Of course we’re different!” the Spiritist retorted. “You think we’ve lived this long for nothing, only good at spirit techniques?”
“Let me tell you, kid, even without spirit techniques, our martial cultivation is beyond your reach.”
“Even if our spirit power is bound here, our cultivation remains.”
“Though we can’t use martial power here, our bodies still carry the strength granted by our cultivation.”
“A mere junior like you, trying to harm us? Laughable.”
“Let’s put it this way: the eleven of us standing here are like ten iron statues and one clay one. You can only torment that clay statue. As for the ten of us, you can’t touch us.”
“And that guy’s a weakling anyway—we don’t care if you mess with him.”
The snake-patterned Saint-cloak Spiritist who spoke was brimming with smugness.
“What the hell? Are you even human? You’re saying he can only torment me?” the Insect-patterned Spiritist complained, clearly displeased.
“Who’s to blame for your weak cultivation? Don’t pin that on us,” another shot back.
“Hahaha…” The other ten laughed heartily, their mockery unrestrained.
Chu Feng felt helpless watching this. These eleven were truly unhinged.
They were trapped, had been furious moments ago, yet now they were laughing like nothing happened. Their nerve was something else.
“So, you’re saying you’re an iron statue?” Chu Feng asked the one who’d spoken.
“Of course,” the Spiritist nodded proudly.
“Good.”
Chu Feng smiled faintly and stepped beside him.
*Swish—*
A flash of sword light, and blood sprayed.
“Argh!” A pig-like scream erupted from the Spiritist.
Chu Feng’s spirit sword had pierced his body.
“You bastard, you actually dared to hurt me?” the Spiritist howled in pain and shock.
He’d assumed his high cultivation made his body impervious, even with only spirit techniques allowed here. But the mansion’s restrictions had weakened their physical strength too.
Despite being powerful martial cultivators outside of spirit techniques, they were now at Chu Feng’s mercy, like lambs to the slaughter.
“Kid, you’re dead! Do you know who we are? You’re courting death!” another Spiritist roared.
*Swish—*
Chu Feng didn’t hold back, swinging his sword again.
Another scream followed as the blade struck true.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t endure pain—Chu Feng’s spirit sword, infused with a formation, inflicted agony far beyond what most could bear.
After that, several more threatened him, only to be pierced by his sword.
Seeing threats were futile, they switched to soft words.
“Little brother, we’re just acquaintances through conflict. We don’t mean you harm. Besides, we didn’t even get the Spirit Jade. No need to hold a grudge and treat us like this, right?”
“How about you let us go, and we’ll call it making friends?” one suggested.
The other ten nodded in agreement.
“Make friends? Do you think I’m stupid?” Chu Feng sneered.
“Then what do you want?” one asked.
“Nothing excessive. Hand over all the treasures you’ve gotten from this World Spirit Mansion, and I’ll let you off,” Chu Feng said.
“What? You little punk, you’re trying to rob us while we’re down?” The eleven Spiritists’ expressions shifted.
Chu Feng nodded with a grin. “Exactly. I’m robbing you while you’re down.”
