Qingqiu had gathered every manner of cultivation method, delved into them with singular devotion, and drawn together the strengths of many schools.

Their formation discs, even if they couldn't match the Xu family of old, were still of considerable attainment — by no means mere showpieces.

But now, under the gaze of every eye, they'd been trodden to fragments with a single kick.

Facing that figure looking down from on high, a savage look welled up on the two Qingqiu ancestors' faces. "Raise the swords!"

As the words came, a vast quantity of flying swords bored out from their storage treasures, silver light glinting, all of them inlaid with gold and set with jade, looking splendid beyond words.

The sword-light gathered, coiling into a long dragon of momentum — and in an instant the surrounding spirit-qi was drained utterly dry.

The long, shrill cry was piercing to the ear, gradually turning into a violent howl.

"Stop!"

Tang Yuan at last leapt up, and almost at the same moment, the Yaksha dharma form suddenly rose into the air too.

"What are you two doing? It was agreed we'd have Wutong Mountain mediate — my teacher hasn't even arrived yet, so how have you suddenly come to blows?"

Tang Yuan blocked their path down the middle, seemingly the very picture of fairness.

The two Qingqiu ancestors nearly spat up a mouthful of old blood in fury. Oh, wonderful — a moment ago this fellow had set fires and shattered formations, all but scorching a whole crowd of clansmen into bald foxes, and you, this Tang person, acted as though you'd seen none of it; now that their crowd meant to strike back, out you jumped.

Could you dare make it any more obvious?

But they didn't dare truly fall out with Wutong Mountain, faces mortified in the extreme, holding their sword-fingers upright, watching the sword-light dragon dart now up, now down — frozen for the moment where they stood.

"You fellow surnamed Shen — you just wait!"

Qingqiu foxes prized their poise above all, but now the two ancestors bared their teeth…