Chapter 1248 - Dragon-Grasping Hand
The two inner disciples had not expected to run into He Yingwu instead of Liu Wuxie. Still, they treated the encounter as an opportunity to collect some interest on behalf of Elder Yu Zhengyang.
"Come if you want a fight!" He Yingwu roared. He rose to his feet and unleashed a ferocious Transcendent Realm aura. Months spent at Liu Wuxie's side had forged a cold, unyielding temperament in him. With no way to avoid the confrontation, he prepared to face it head-on.
"Stop the pointless struggle. You're no match for us. Kneel and cripple your cultivation, perhaps you'll suffer less," said the disciple on the left with a sneer. He did not even bother to look at He Yingwu; to him, a Transcendent Realm expert was nothing more than an ant.
Disciples from the surrounding courtyards poured in, eager to watch the spectacle.
"I won't kneel even in death!" He Yingwu bellowed. Ten years spent as a slave had not broken his pride; they had only tempered his resolve.
The two inner disciples had not expected such defiance.
"Since you're courting death, I'll grant your wish!" snarled the man on the left. His palm lashed out with the force of a pinnacle Origin Conversion Realm cultivator. Power surged like a torrent, shaking the walls of the courtyard.
He Yingwu was not Liu Wuxie. His talent surpassed ordinary men's, but he could not defeat a ninth-level Origin Conversion Realm cultivator. Before he could even raise his longsword, the blow hurled him across the courtyard, and the gap between them yawned as wide as heaven and earth.
He Yingwu slammed into a wall; the impact cracked his bones. Blood burst from his lips, yet he staggered to his feet. He tightened his grip on the longsword and prepared to charge again despite his injuries.
"This old lad is tough," one of the newer disciples muttered in admiration. Because of his age, many disciples jokingly called him an "old lad."
The two assailants exchanged glances, surprised that he still stood after such a blow.
"Kill him," the disciple on the right ordered flatly, as though pronouncing a trivial matter. His words carried a death warrant. The sect would not care about an outer disciple without backing; at most, it would deliver a token reprimand.