Countless inner cores still lay beneath this island, and the Capital City Martial Arts Association wouldn't let such treasures slip through their fingers.
They dispatched teams daily to collect these inner cores and transport them back to headquarters.
"So Mason Raymond really died here?" someone gestured toward the Immortal Slaying Sect's entrance.
"That's right. Word is Mr. Thompson finished him off with a single palm strike."
"Good riddance. That bastard caused us nothing but headaches."
Hearing their mocking comments, I couldn't stop myself from sneering.
"Hand over all the inner cores," I called out from behind them.
The group spun around at the sound of my voice.
Seeing the scruffy-faced young man before them, they smirked. "Who the hell are you? What gives you the right to come here? How dare you speak to us like that?"
I kept my eyes half-closed and said coldly, "Give me every inner core you've collected."
