He drew a sword this time, his eyes flashing with a hint of killing intent. Wang Ming raised an eyebrow when he sensed it but didn't react much. Compared to his own killing intent, it was like comparing an ocean to a drop of water.
"Looks like you want to kill me, huh? I don't mind—many have tried before. But are you sure you want to do that here in the sect? You'll be expelled," Wang Ming said calmly. Killing a fellow disciple outside of an authorized death match meant severe punishment—expulsion at best, death at worst, depending on the elders' judgment.
"Heh… maybe I won't cripple your cutlivation. I'll just cripple you—cut off an arm or something," the disciple said, breaking into a cold sweat. But he quickly retracted his killing intent, realizing the consequences, and instead looked at Wang Ming with a mocking smile
