Transmigrated Scoundrel's Exchange System-Novel



"Do you genuinely believe your single presence is sufficient? Old Miscreant, it's unnecessary for you to continue your charade. Reveal yourself!" The middle-aged man's declaration, pronounced in a voice that rang with a grave sense of urgency, echoed throughout the air, causing a sudden silence to descend on the assembly. His intense gaze swept across the spectators, each of whom appeared startled by his sudden outburst. Was the Hidden Evil School leader insinuating that a powerhouse was lurking among them?

This assertion triggered a ripple of shock among the cultivators present. A wave of shared unease swept over the crowd as they exchanged confused glances. Was it possible that Ancestor Qin was among them? The question hung in the air, a troubling omen that caused the brows of the cultivators to furrow in uncertainty. They quickly turned their gaze to their surroundings, attempting to discern any sign of the supposed powerhouse. 

Their scan of the surroundings, however, proved fruitless. The area remained eerily quiet, devoid of any anomalies. An unsettling quietude reigned, making their collective alarm seem baseless. Confusion was writ large on the faces of the cultivators as they turned their attention back to the middle-aged man and Wei Hou. The leader of the Hidden Evil School had certainly succeeded in creating a stir, but his claim seemed to lack credibility.

Taken aback by the sudden accusation, Wei Hou struggled to suppress his surprise. His face contorted into an expression of confusion, and he appeared visibly perturbed. "What are you aiming at? How am I not sufficient..." he began to retort, his voice a shaky counterpoint to the surety that had previously marked his words. But his retort was abruptly cut short as an unexpected figure made his entrance onto the field.

In the next instant, an elderly man materialized beside Wei Hou, causing a collective gasp to ripple through the crowd. The abrupt appearance of this stranger was startling, to say the least. The old man, with his enigmatic demeanor, scrutinized the middle-aged man with a keen eye, and after what felt like an eternity, a peculiar chuckle escaped his lips. 

"Impressive, indeed! It's no wonder you were among the disciples I favored the most," he complimented, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. His eyes glinted with a strange amusement as he continued, "You were capable of seeing through this old man's guise!" 

With his revelation, a collective shiver ran down the spines of the assembled individuals. The atmosphere, already tense, now crackled with an added layer of disbelief and surprise. They were all in the presence of the formidable Ancestor Qin.

"You have masked your presence using some nefarious technique, haven't you, old man?" The accusation echoed with bitterness in the middle-aged man's voice. His piercing gaze was locked onto the newly emerged figure, his eyes reflecting a storm of unspoken emotions. The elderly man's sudden appearance had set off a whirlwind of suspicion and he intended to unearth the truth. His words, stern and assertive, pierced through the tense silence, bearing the weight of his defiance.

The elderly man, whose presence reeked of a sinister aura, addressed him sharply in response. "My dear disciple, do you have the audacity to defy your mentor?" His voice was cold, piercing, seeping into the ears of the onlookers like a bitter wind. The sheer intensity of his words seemed to cause a dull ache in the cultivators' ears, forcing them to involuntarily step back. The confrontation between the mentor and disciple was evolving into a situation far more complex and perilous than anyone had anticipated.

"Humph! Disciple?" The middle-aged man retorted scornfully. His words cut through the thick silence, the bitterness in his tone ringing clear. "Back then, you tried to annihilate us without any chance for explanation. You murdered many and even refined their souls. Did you ever consider us as disciples? Or were we mere pawns in your grand scheme?" His spirit head, symbolizing his spiritual cultivation, began to expand, inflating to a more formidable size. His scornful words were a bold declaration of his resolve. "Furthermore, you're merely employing an Evil avatar technique, allowing at most a third of your cultivation power. I harbor no fear towards you!" His defiance was clear and his courage, undeniable.

As the confrontation continued to unfold, the gathering of cultivators looked on with bated breath, their expressions running the gamut from awe to fear. The standoff between the mentor and the disciple, the unexpected revelations, and the undercurrent of perilous power were undoubtedly overwhelming. They were spectators to a dangerous game of power and defiance, their own fates hanging in the balance.

Despite the bold defiance of his former disciple, the old man didn't appear enraged. He responded with an air of apathy, his voice monotone, betraying no trace of emotion. "Indeed. If this were a hundred years prior, your words would hold. Capturing you alive with merely a third of my cultivation might've been a daunting task. But today..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. A sarcastic sneer spread across his weathered face, as if he found amusement in the unfolding drama.

The seemingly confident spirit of Uncle Hui seemed to waver at this revelation. His face registered disbelief, his spirit head shrinking a fraction. It was as if he was hit by an unseen blow, his previously defiant demeanor faltering.

"Could it be... you've perfected that Fiendish Art?" His words were a mere whisper, his voice wavering with a trace of horror. His eyes widened, reflecting the horror of his realization. The Fiendish Art was a forbidden technique, one that promised immense power at a great cost. If Ancestor Qin had indeed mastered it, their predicament was far worse than they had anticipated.

"Your guess is not wrong," came the response, a statement of admission from the elderly man. His casual tone belied the gravity of his words. "If you choose to surrender without a struggle, I can guarantee a chance of survival. If you choose otherwise... you know the consequences, don't you?" As he spoke, the old man casually lifted his hand. A sphere of ashen flames burst into existence, casting long, haunting shadows across the scene. The deadly dance of the flames in his palm painted the scene with a sinister pallor, a clear display of his deadly intent.

Occasionally missing content, please report errors in time.