Xiahou Zong spoke with an intimidating and emotionless tone, gazing at Jiang Chen like he was sizing up a dead man. The youths present shuddered in response, dread settling in their bellies.

Jiang Chen stood his ground and calmly met Xiahou Zong’s gaze.

“I’m not interested in taking anything from you, Xiahou Zong, but Huang’er has never been and never will be yours! Listen carefully, I don’t care if you style yourself some bullshit top genius. If you dare stand in my way, I won’t hesitate to send you to hell.”

Xiahou Zong broke into hearty laughter. “You sure talk big, kid. People would think you’re an advanced empyrean expert with the way you talk. You’re going to send me to hell?”

“I am,” Jiang Chen said plainly. “I hope you’ll participate in the sword competition. I hope you aren’t as weak as the other one-hit trash from House Xiahou.”

House Xiahou was thoroughly his enemy. There would be no love lost...