Seeing Colin Chang collapse to the ground, not only were the people on the Yanhuang Republic side shocked— even the Immortal-Dao cultivators wore expressions of disbelief and suspicion.
If before, Ian Song killed Evan Xuan only by taking advantage of a sneak attack—
This time, Colin Chang had clearly activated his magic treasure and released its protective divine light, yet he was still killed easily by Ian.
“Who else wants to come up and die?”
In the arena, Ian Song stood tall and proud, his gaze full of provocation as he swept his eyes toward the last Innate Ninth Layer cultivator on the Immortal-Dao side.
That Innate Ninth Layer cultivator was named Frank Fan; in terms of strength, he was about equal to the dead Evan Xuan and Colin Chang.
So, feeling Ian Song’s provocative gaze, fear rose in his heart and he instinctively turned his eyes away, not daring to meet Ian’s stare.
Seeing this, the Yanhuang Republic side felt a surge of satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the nine Foundation Establishment Realm experts on the Immortal-Dao side felt deeply humiliated.
Noticing the cultivator actually shrinking back, Ian Song couldn’t help but laugh loudly: “Ha! Aren’t you Immortal-Dao cultivators supposed to be so high and mighty? Why are you scared of a mere mortal martial artist like me?”
Ian’s ridicule made the cultivators furious and ashamed, but not a single one stepped forward.
He had already killed four people, including two at the peak of the Innate Ninth Layer. Everyone now understood how terrifying Ian Song, this ‘mortal martial artist,’ really was. Nobody was stupid enough to volunteer for death.
“Frank Fan, go up there and behead that brat!”
The speaker was a middle-aged man in white robes—Master Qingyu, sect master of Qingling Sect, one of the nine great Immortal-Dao sects.
On hearing this, Frank Fan’s eyes flashed with fear. He stammered, “Master, I— I had a mishap in cultivation last night and can’t use my zhenyuan for now, so…!”
The so-called ‘mishap in cultivation’ was just an excuse. Master Qingyu saw through it instantly—his disciple was simply scared of the mortal martial artist. But considering Frank’s outstanding talent, losing him to Ian Song would be a huge blow to the sect. So Master Qingyu barked:
“You disgrace! When we return to the sect, you’ll spend a year facing the wall in reflection!”
“Thank you, Master!”
Hearing that he didn’t have to fight, Frank Fan let out a sigh of relief. A year of reflection was nothing compared to losing his life!
Seeing the cultivators turtle up, Ian Song wasn’t about to let them off the hook. He sneered, “What’s wrong? All admitting defeat now? Fine, I’ll allow two of you to come at me together!”
"Amitabha!" Among the nine Foundation-stage elders, a middle-aged monk intoned a Buddhist greeting: "Since the young donor has such a request, I shall grant it. Leo Yong, Liam Li, go and exchange pointers with him."
This middle-aged monk was Master Jinguang, sect leader of the Golden Light Buddhist Sect—one of the nine great Immortal-Dao sects.
"Yes, Master!"
Two young monks in pale moon-white robes stepped forward. Compared to the monk Ian killed earlier, these two were more refined in appearance, and both possessed Innate Eighth Layer cultivation.
"This poor monk Leo Yong greets the donor."
"This poor monk Liam Li greets the donor."
The two monks politely saluted Ian Song.
As the saying goes, you don't strike a smiling face. Seeing the monks so polite, Ian decided not to kill them—just to injure them. He smiled and returned the salute: "Masters, you are too kind. I..."
But before Ian could finish, Leo Yong suddenly tossed out a string of prayer beads.
The prayer beads flew above Ian's head, bursting with golden light. Nine Buddha phantoms emerged, stabilizing the void and chanting Buddhist mantras. Ian, under their pressure, felt his spirit jolt and turn hazy for a moment. However, his spirit lake shook once and he instantly regained clarity, realizing he'd been ambushed by the two monks.
But at the very instant Ian regained clarity, a fist-thick Vajra pestle was already descending toward his head, trailing a vicious gale and aiming straight for his forehead.
Heh, I was going to spare you two, but you dare ambush me!
With a cold sneer, Ian raised his fist and smashed it directly into the Vajra pestle.
Kacha! Kacha! (cracking sounds)
Despite being a third-grade treasure, the Vajra pestle was struck so hard it developed several cracks.
Wah! (sound of vomiting blood)
At the moment the Vajra pestle cracked, Liam Li spat out a mouthful of blood.
Whoosh! (sound of movement)
Ian’s figure blurred like a ghost as he closed in on them.
Bang! Bang! (palm strikes landing)