Yang Jing circled Wang Tong, building the pressure. He then took out a Flying Sword and began toying with it in his hand.
Wang Tong's nerves were already stretched taut, and his face was beaded with sweat. If not for the self-cleaning Restriction on his Magic Robe, he would have been soaked through.
He suddenly recognized the Flying Sword in Yang Jing's hand.
"Th-this... isn't this Qiu Feihua's Red Chilong Sword?"
All of Wang Tong's fat began to tremble, and the color drained from his face. He never would have imagined that the major case that had shaken the entire Huangyuan Marketplace was actually Yang Jing's doing.
"I'm surprised you recognized it, Brother Wang. He refused to cooperate and expose the Profound Carp Association's secrets, so I had no choice but to pose as a Tribulation Cultivator and send him and his apprentice to their graves."
Yang Jing bluffed.
"The Profound Carp Association? What Profound Carp Association?"
