Chapter 83

"Six thousand five hundred!"

The voice was hoarse and indifferent, as if the speaker was not talking about the precious Origin Stones that martial artists valued, but a pile of ordinary rocks.

The figure in the black cloak, sitting motionless, instantly exuded an air of mystery.

"Can you come up with that many Origin Stones?"

Luo Xingyun could no longer contain his anger and shouted.

At this moment, everyone's gaze fell on the cloaked figure.

Guan Canghai also cast a suspicious glance at him, and after the attendant who had delivered the sword whispered to him, he finally showed a look of shock.

"Nephew Luo, if you can't come up with more Origin Stones, the Iron Demon Wolf pup will belong to this friend!"

Guan Canghai said solemnly.

"Too much! I want to see who you are, daring to oppose my Purple Luo Family!"

Bang!

An enraged voice followed, and the crystal screen in front of the private room shattered. A purple figure shot out, a purple long sword in hand, emitting a sword beam nearly a meter long, slashing fiercely at the cloaked figure.

"Bold!"

Guan Canghai was furious. This was the Treasure Pavilion, and while low-ranking martial artists might not know, these major forces certainly knew it was a property of the Xuan Yun Sect.

Luo Xingyun's actions clearly showed he did not take the Xuan Yun Sect seriously, but it was too late to stop him, as they were separated by several dozen feet.

Clang!

A sword light, indescribable and almost illusory, flashed even before the sharp sound of metal clashing.

Everyone within several feet of the cloaked figure suddenly felt as if a huge stone was pressing on them, their breathing stifled, and they looked at the cloaked figure, who had risen at some point, with horror.

Lonely Cloud Sword!

"What?"

Luo Xingyun, a sword genius, was only twenty-two years old and was already in the late True Forging Realm. His Purple Luo Sword Technique had long reached mastery.

But facing the cloaked figure's casual slash, he felt an overwhelming pressure, and if he did not dodge, he would surely die.

"No—"

Luo Xingyun, true to his reputation as a sword genius, his eyes suddenly shone with unprecedented light in the face of danger, a sign of a breakthrough under pressure.

It was not in cultivation but in martial arts cultivation. In an instant, the Purple Luo Sword Technique he wielded transformed, the sword beam suddenly extending to a meter.

But facing this sword beam, which had increased several times in momentum, the cloaked figure's sword did not change, its momentum undiminished.

Clang!

A surge of energy shot out, light flickered, and several nearby Inner Breath Realm martial artists, about seven or eight, were pierced by the scattered sword qi, though fortunately not in vital areas, causing a chorus of screams.

The purple and white sword beam exploded, and even the high-grade spirit weapon, a replica of the true Purple Luo Sword, was cut with a large notch and flew away.

Ah!

Luo Xingyun felt an indescribable aura rush towards him, and countless sharp energies penetrated his body, ravaging his meridians, causing him to spurt several streams of blood.

His face was cut, his handsome and refined appearance ruined, and his chest was slashed by several scattered sword beams, blood gushing out.

"Master!"

The five middle-aged attendants in the private room suddenly changed their expressions and leaped out. Four of them attacked the cloaked figure, while one tried to help Luo Xingyun.

"Stop!"

Luo Xingyun, spitting blood, crashed into the person's arms, the immense force causing both to crash into the back wall, sending debris flying and drowning out his desperate cry.

Swish, swish, swish!

Without any technique, just two simple slashes, the cloaked figure did not even move.

The four attendants rushing forward felt countless sword beams coming at them, stopping and raising their weapons to block.

But it was too late!

Clang, clang, clang!

Several sharp sounds echoed, and the weapons in their hands all broke, their bodies flying back, spewing blood, and landing in a cloud of dust.

Hiss!

Apart from the sound of drawing in cold air, there was nothing else, as everyone looked at the cloaked figure with shock, the hood of his cloak having fallen back from the swing of the Lonely Cloud Sword.

Snow-white long hair, a young and resolute face, eyes as calm as still water, a tall and slender figure, and superb sword skills—all these belonged to one person.

The legendary genius of the Xuan Yun Sect, the White-Haired Yama—Ye Guyun!

Feng Yuantu in the private room was already stunned, muttering, "Sword momentum, sword momentum, actually—"

"Cough, cough, Xingyun acted rudely first, I hope—Master Ye, Master, forgive me!"

Luo Xingyun, spitting blood, walked out from the collapsed wall, but his eyes were unusually bright.

Looking at Ye Guyun, there was a kind of admiration, an intangible reverence, the respect for a supreme strong person, a lifelong follower.

At this moment, even Beiye Lie in the private room, with a bitter expression, looked at Ye Guyun with awe.

It was hard to imagine what kind of person Ye Guyun was, to make two geniuses revere him so much.

Li Chen, his body trembling slightly, lips tightly pressed, stared at Ye Guyun with a sharp gaze.

In this person, he felt a similar aura to his own, but much more intense.

"You are my goal—Master!"

For no reason, Li Chen respected this person for the first time. Even Li Mingyun, who had taken him as a disciple, had not made him feel this way.

Because in the Xuan Yun Sect, the name he heard the most was Ye Guyun, the legendary top disciple.

"Receive my sword, and you will be spared!"

The voice was hoarse and indifferent, without any change. Ye Guyun sheathed the Lonely Cloud Sword, slowly sat back down, and put on his hood, his expression unchanged throughout.

"Thank you—cough, cough, thank you, Master!"

Luo Xingyun, his face covered in blood, no longer elegant and handsome, had no hatred. He supported his heavily injured body, bowed deeply, and said with gratitude.

It seemed that just this sentence gave him great encouragement.

Supported by the attendants, Luo Xingyun left, looking back every few steps, his eyes full of gratitude and the lonely figure like a cloud on the horizon.

The attendants, staggering to their feet, looked at the person with reverence before leaving.

Because this person was someone revered by the young generation of disciples in the Xuan Yun Sect, whether friend or foe, regardless of the martial arts they practiced.

Not just for his martial arts cultivation, but for his legendary life, which all young people held as a model.

Even the older generation of martial artists praised his talent highly.

"Able to receive praise from the sword master, I have lost!"

Beiye Lie's expression was dark, and he turned to leave the room with his attendants, no longer caring about the last treasure. To him, everything was meaningless.

After all these years of cultivation, Beiye Lie, who was equal to Luo Xingyun in talent, insight, age, and status, voluntarily admitted defeat because of Ye Guyun's words. What kind of prestige was that?

"Old! Old, old!"

The killing intent in Feng Yuantu's eyes disappeared, his face expressionless, and he staggered out of the private room.