Chapter 3076 — Paying Back the Debt

"Ironclad Sect, hold your hands. I do not wish to kill you—my grudge is with Zhen Yingjun alone," Wei Zhao said to Black One and the others.

But the more Wei Zhao said it, the more the Ironclad Sect men took it for fear—that he was merely putting on a show and bluffing. So Black One did not pause; he drove a fist straight at Wei Zhao!

Wei Zhao gave a faint sigh. There was no help for it—he would have to strike. Yet he still held back: though in an instant he revealed the strength of early Heaven Rank, when he struck he used only the eighth stance of the Frenzied Fire Fist!

It was enough only to wound Black One gravely, not to kill him. He hoped his forbearance would keep the Ironclad Sect from pressing the matter further; otherwise, next time Wei Zhao would have no choice but to cut them down.

Wei Zhao did not fear trouble, but needless trouble was best kept to a minimum.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Wei Zhao had not struck at all—and then he struck, clean and decisive. In an instant—a single instant—all four men in black, Black One included, were blasted away by Wei Zhao!

Black One was plainly the strongest, having reached the peak of early Earth Rank. The others were knocked cold, but he, though wounded, did not faint. He only stared at Wei Zhao in horror and forced out four words: "A Heaven Rank expert…"

Black One knew he had kicked an iron plate. Wei Zhao was young, yet already an early Heaven Rank expert—he could not be a nobody, nor could any small clan have raised him. Behind him, surely, stood a far greater power!

And his claim that he had never heard of the Ironclad Sect—perhaps he simply looked down on it!

"What?!" Zhen Yingjun was no longer the ignorant fool he had once been; he well knew what a Heaven Rank expert meant! How could Wei Zhao possibly be a Heaven Rank expert? It was utterly absurd. Back then, Wei Zhao had had to fight Ma Zhu head-on and had ended in mutual ruin. Yet now, at a single strike—before he could even see clearly—his own guards lay on the ground, and even Black One, an expert at the peak of early Earth Rank, was no match!

"Zhen Yingjun, I told you I did not wish to strike, and I warned you too. If you insist on sending your men to their deaths, there is nothing I can do." Wei Zhao laid the blame on Zhen Yingjun as much as he could, so that the Ironclad Sect would settle accounts with him, and advanced toward Zhen Yingjun step by step.

But Wei Zhao misjudged the Ironclad Sect's ties. The Ironclad Sect would not do anything to Zhen Yingjun—at least not now.

"You… don't come closer… I'm telling you, these men may have been beaten by you, but behind me stands the whole Ironclad Sect. If you lay a finger on me, I'll make sure you can't swallow it down!" Zhen Yingjun was fierce in word but cowardly at heart, retreating without cease. A Heaven Rank expert—it truly shook him to the core.

"Smack!" Wei Zhao slapped him across the face, and those handsome features were once again knocked askew, eyes and mouth twisted out of line.

"The Ironclad Sect, is it? You once thought the Jinzhong Sect was formidable too. And now?" Wei Zhao came to a calm stop before Zhen Yingjun.

"You… you can't kill me…" Zhen Yingjun was truly afraid now, backing away in terror. "Wei Zhao, the Zhen family is formidable now—truly formidable!"

"Oh, even if you changed your name to Zhen Liaode, it would have nothing to do with me." "Smack!" Another crisp sound—Wei Zhao's hand lashed out again and struck the other half of Zhen Yingjun's face.

"Spare me… I'll agree to whatever terms you set…" Zhen Yingjun had gone soft. Facing Wei Zhao, he had no choice but to bow his head.

"I can spare you. I am merely here to collect a debt. Two hundred and fifty million—when will you give it to me?" Wei Zhao asked.

"This… I already paid you two hundred and fifty million before. Could it be a little less this time? How about one hundred and fifty million?" Zhen Yingjun said after a moment's hesitation.

"Smack!" Another slap. Wei Zhao was growing impatient. "Stop dawdling. If you have money, pay it to buy your life; if not, go die. One hundred and fifty million is fine—I'll cut off both your arms, count that as a hundred million. How about it?"

"Then… all right… I… I'll transfer it to you as soon as I get back!" Zhen Yingjun's eyes darted. He thought to himself that he would leave first and worry later—once he was back, Wei Zhao would never find him, and then everything would be as he pleased.

"Get back?" Wei Zhao saw through him at once and gave a cold laugh. "Now. Immediately. Transfer it! Otherwise, I don't mind making you like them—though they are cultivators, external-defense cultivators at that, and they survived my hand. You may not. One blow and you might just drop dead. But that would be fine too—dead and done, and no debt to repay."

"I… fine!" Zhen Yingjun drew a deep breath and reminded himself that a man under another's eaves must bow his head. We'll see about this later! Then he took out his phone and said to Wei Zhao, "Give me your account number!"

Wei Zhao recited an account number, and Zhen Yingjun made several calls to transfer the money. He dared not play any tricks; he knew well how ruthless Wei Zhao was. Better to get past this hurdle first—there would be plenty of chances to settle scores with Wei Zhao later!

Besides, the Zhen family, with the Ironclad Sect now as its patron, was quite wealthy. Two hundred and fifty million was no small sum, but Zhen Yingjun could still produce it.

Before long, Wei Zhao's phone chimed with a deposit notification. He glanced at the amount, found it correct, and nodded in satisfaction. "All right. You can scram!"

"Good!" Zhen Yingjun gritted his teeth, glanced at the white-robed guards with guns at their waists not far off, and ordered them, "What are you standing there for? Hoist them on your backs and come with me!"

"Yes!" These white-robed guards, though armed and mighty enough before outsiders, were far beneath cultivators. So although they had not fallen, they dared not so much as draw their pistols before Wei Zhao—and Zhen Yingjun had never counted on them to turn the tables.

Zhen Yingjun had come in a rage and left in disgrace. Watching their receding backs, Wei Zhao knitted his brows slightly. He had not killed Zhen Yingjun today, but sooner or later there would surely be a clash with the Zhen family and the Ironclad Sect—only not too soon. (To be continued)

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