Chapter 1865: Directly Scaring Off a Group of People

Chapter 1865: Chapter 1865: Directly Scaring Off a Group of People

The entire square became completely dead silent. Although Long Wucuo ultimately managed to keep his life, the ten-zhang-long blood trail on the ground still displayed the brutality and bloodiness of the battle just now. Anyone could see that Han Yan had no intention of letting Long Wucuo leave the competition platform alive. It was only due to his Protective Armor that he narrowly preserved his life. Even so, being pierced through by the Fire Spear must have resulted in severe injuries, likely costing him much of his cultivation.

When they looked at Han Yan again, the eyes of everyone showed a hint of fear.

At last, they realized how powerful and terrifying Han Yan was. Two strikes, two divine arts; one broke through Long Wudang’s strongest divine arts, the Death Shield, and another shattered the legendary Chaos God Sword, delivering what could have been a fatal blow to Long Wucuo.

Han Yan’s gaze swept across the entire scene and finally landed on the remaining eleven priests opposite her.

"Next." Han Yan’s gaze passed over those eleven priests, suddenly shouting loudly.

Although her strength was stuck at a bottleneck, difficult to break through, Han Yan’s recent cultivation had not been in vain; nor had the Five-Colored Soul Pearl been wasted. Her comprehension of the Eight Desolate God Fall was not in vain either. Unlike last time when one use of the Eight Desolate God Fall exhausted all her spiritual power and divine sense, this time she still had half of her strength left, and she could perform the Eight Desolate God Fall once more.

Under Han Yan’s penetrating gaze, the remaining eleven priests were all like sitting on pins and needles, and her clear shout fell into their ears like shocking thunder, so much so that no one dared to meet Han Yan’s eyes.

"Who else wants to challenge me? Step forward!" Han Yan pointed with her longsword, shouting again.

The priests across from her had wandering gazes, none daring to respond.

What a joke, even Long Wucuo, the strongest among them, was so miserably defeated. Two strikes—no, to be precise, when Han Yan issued the first strike, he was already defeated. Without the Chaos God Sword, Long Wucuo really had no courage to fight again. Alas, even with the Chaos God Sword, what good did it do? The result was the same—utter defeat. If it wasn’t for having a good father and getting a treasure armor for protection, his life would have been lost already.

They neither possessed divine arts as powerful as Long Wudang’s nor did they have treasure armor for protection. Why would they ask for trouble? The string of Blood Pearls still fresh in their memory, Han Yan dared to strike down even the favored son of the Tianyang Chief Priest without mercy, how could she possibly show them any leniency?

Seeing their performance, the stone in Han Yan’s heart finally fell to the ground.

Why did she come in with an overwhelming force to challenge first, why give Long Wucuo that slap in the face, it wasn’t to vent grievances nor to indulge in despair, it was all for this result.

With her strength, it was absolutely impossible to break through the siege of a twelve-priest wheel of challenges, so she had to provoke the strongest one among them, Long Wucuo, forcing him to go all out at the start, and then defeat him with a thunderous force to destroy others’ courage to fight her.

Coming in with such an imposing manner, on one hand, was to take control and engage Long Wucuo first, and on the other hand, it was also to plant the seed of fear in others’ hearts.

From the performance of the eleven priests across, her plan was accomplished almost perfectly.

In fact, that Chaos God Sword also added a lot of glory to Han Yan in this battle, causing everyone to look at her strength a few degrees higher, and the fear even stronger. Ling Baobao’s seemingly unreliable prank, unexpectedly had an unexpected effect.

"Since no one is stepping up to challenge, then I’ll choose. You, yes, you." Han Yan’s wrist moved slightly, pointing her longsword at one of the priests.

This priest wasn’t the strongest among them, but from the cold sweat on his face and his flickering gaze, he was the one with the weakest mind.

"Me, Priest Mu, why me?" The priest’s face turned pale in an instant, he stammered out his words.

Han Yan almost burst into laughter. Isn’t this a pointless question? Why choose you? Isn’t it because you look easy to bully? From his stuttering question, he was even easier to bully than she had imagined.

"Get started!" In such a serious setting, she had to maintain her image of strong, ruthless, and terrifying in their eyes, so Han Yan certainly would not laugh, but said with an arrogant look, a cold look, a murderous look.

The other priests didn’t laugh either. Although they thought this person was somewhat disgraceful, having seen the battle just now, they too were filled with unease; if picked by Han Yan, their performance wouldn’t fare much better.

The priest looked helplessly at Han Yan, then at the chief priests on the stage, and finally at his colleagues beside him, his expression extraordinarily desolate, his hand gripping the longsword trembling incessantly.

Seeing him in such a pitiful manner, as if he were about to head to the execution ground, Han Yan became even more determined.

With her hand on the sword hilt, the Cold Sky Sword slowly unsheathed, her expression turning even more icy cold.

"I surrender, I surrender." Seeing the merciless killing intent in Han Yan’s eyes, the priest’s last line of defense in his heart finally collapsed, and he shouted in a tremulous voice. Then, embarrassed to face the crowd any longer, he jumped off the competition platform and turned to leave.

Seeing him surrender and run away in such a spineless manner, the crowd below was stunned for quite a while, then snapped back to attention, issuing waves of boos.

To be fair, this priest’s strength wasn’t the weakest among the remaining eleven. In fact, those standing on the platform weren’t weak; in terms of identity and strength, they were the elites of each temple. Even knowing they weren’t Han Yan’s match, they should at least have exchanged a few moves, conceding only after confirming their inferiority. But who would have thought he had no courage even to make a move and surrendered immediately. Didn’t he feel ashamed?

The priest, of course, heard the boos behind him but paid them no mind. What does shame matter compared to losing one’s life? Trying a few moves—he would have liked to exchange blows with Han Yan for a few rounds before surrendering with dignity, but the sight of Long Wucuo’s outcome was right there. Just one strike, only one, had him badly injured and vomiting blood, which was probably due to the protective treasure armor; otherwise, he might not have even had the chance to draw the Chaos God Sword.

He didn’t think Han Yan would be in the mood to exchange pleasantries with him, sparing his dignity; one strike might just take his life.

He didn’t want to die, really didn’t want to die.

"Next, you!" Han Yan didn’t care at all about the priest who fled the battlefield, her longsword pointing at another.

Now was exactly the time to strike while the iron is hot, to destroy the opponent’s will to fight thoroughly in one go, and never let them regain their composure.