Ye Xuan's single word, "Scram," was like a vicious slap across his face. He'd been utterly humiliated in front of so many Soul Refiners and their disciples. At this moment, Tai Xin was so enraged he nearly coughed up blood.
"Good, kid. You refuse to accept a toast, so you'll have to drink a forfeit. Since it's come to this, this old man would like to see for himself just how strong you are to dare speak to me like that."
Tai Xin's face was ashen. With an angry roar, two black rings appeared in his hands. Each ring was about half a meter in diameter with razor-sharp edges. With a flick of his wrists, the two black rings transformed into two fierce blades of light that shot viciously toward Ye Xuan.
At the same time, a black, crescent-moon-shaped martial soul materialized above Tai Xin's head. A hazy glow enveloped the ring blades, and the black light radiating from them instantly intensified.
