A Sword That Will Not Sheathe Without Blood

In the next instant, a vicious glint flashed in the Ugly Daoist's eyes. He began to retreat rapidly, his hands forming seals in preparation to make the giant dragon self-destruct.

This giant dragon contained a layer of his own will. If it self-destructed, it would take at least a century of recovery to heal the damage—but at this moment, he had no choice!

"Die!"

The Ugly Daoist roared with a twisted face, finishing his hand seals. The dragon's body suddenly began to swell—yet at that instant, Ian Song stepped forward.

In a flash, the hundreds of meters between them vanished.

The Ink-Black Sword flickered with light, and then an ugly head flew high into the air. A fountain of blood spurted from the headless torso like a geyser.

With the Ugly Daoist dead, the swelling giant dragon quickly calmed down and gradually dissipated into the void.

"Whoosh!"

A fat Nascent Soul shot out from the Ugly Daoist's body, trying to escape, but Ian Song reached out and caught it instantly.

"Please, don't kill me!"

The Ugly Daoist's Nascent Soul begged pitifully.

"Do you think that's possible?" Ian Song smiled at him, then clenched his hand. Instantly, the Nascent Soul shattered between his fingers.

"The Ugly Daoist is dead?"

"He died at the hands of Ian Song, who's only late Out-of-Body!"

At that moment, not only the experts who came to ambush him found it hard to accept—even Old Man Tanner and the others felt as if it were unreal, staring at Ian Song in stunned silence. Only Raina Quinn's cheeks were flushed, her eyes full of admiration as she gazed at Ian: "Young Master, you're amazing!"

Meanwhile, Fletcher Toba looked at Ian Song with a complicated expression. This kid was truly unpredictable. If Diana had a husband like him... but you took Diana's body, and Master will never forgive you.

For a moment, he actually felt a trace of regret in his heart.

"We can't give this kid any more chances. Everyone, attack together!"

Zhao Wu shouted loudly.

"That's right! Even a top expert like the Ugly Daoist died at his hands—we absolutely can't fight him one-on-one anymore!" shouted a late Soul-Split cultivator.

Swish, swish, swish, swish!

Figures flashed across the battlefield. Aside from the three led by Fletcher Toba, everyone else landed around Ian, forming a tight encirclement.

Young master, let us help you!

Old Man Tanner, Raina Quinn, and four others quickly appeared at his side.

Ian swept his gaze calmly around. Now that the Ugly Daoist was dead and Fletcher Toba’s group had stepped aside, he faced twenty-seven late Soul-Split experts and twenty mid-stage Soul-Splits surrounding him.

It was a formidable lineup, but Ian felt no fear at all.

"Master Song, hand over the Ink-Black Sword and your Storage Ring. We’ll only destroy your body—let you cultivate as a scattered immortal!" one late Soul-Split expert called out. Ian’s strength was obvious to all. Though they had numbers on their side, even killing Ian would mean risking casualties from his counterattack. No one wanted to be the unlucky one, so they left him a sliver of hope, hoping to avoid a desperate struggle.

Ian smiled and shook his head. "Enough talk. If you want to fight, come at me!"

"Master Song, don’t be stubborn! With so many of us here, you don’t stand a chance!" The late Soul-Split expert tried to persuade him again, but Ian replied, "How would you know if you haven’t tried? Maybe you’ll be the ones who die in the end."

Another late Soul-Split, angered by Ian’s words, shouted, "Old Zhou, since this kid won’t listen, why waste words? Let’s just attack!"

Attack!

Just as they shouted to attack, Ian moved first.

Skyless!

The Ink-Black Sword flashed like a ghost. In a blur, five mid-stage Soul-Split heads flew into the air, their eyes wide with disbelief at their sudden deaths.

"Not good! Everyone, scatter!" a late Soul-Split cried out.

Too late!

Sword light flashed again.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!

This time, six more mid-stage Soul-Split heads flew into the sky.

Seeing this, the remaining nine mid-stage Soul-Splits were gripped by a nameless terror. In less than a breath, Ian had taken down eleven people.