The crux of the matter, however, was the Blood-Robed Yellow Springs Sect's sudden and inexplicable intervention. With several ancestors turning out in full force, how could these seasoned veterans, despite all their years of experience, not tremble in fear before such infamous, ancestral-level monsters of the assassin world?

In their eyes, Qiu Lingshan and the others might have been powerful, but they were nothing more than paper tigers without fangs—formidable on the surface, yet not truly fearsome. The people of the Blood-Robed Yellow Springs Sect were different. Every one of them was a vicious fiend, hardened by countless battles and utterly remorseless in the taking of life.

If the two groups had remained separate, the combined strength of the Iron-Robed Sect and He Dantou would not have had much trouble dealing with either one. But now that the two sides had joined forces, they had not merely given a tiger fangs—they had given it wings as well. With the tiger thus equipped, how could anyone hope to fight it?

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