Send Me Money Now

An Yi

Qin Yao, who had rushed over in a hurry, saw An Yi arriving and then glanced at her unharmed mother.

Biting her lower lip, she barely managed to hold back her tears.

"Yao Yao, you're not—"

Seeing Qin Yao running out, Lin Lan was momentarily stunned before realizing something and letting out a helpless smile.

An Yi turned to Qin Yao, who had just arrived, and said sternly, "Yao Yao, transfer me the money now!"

"Transfer money?"

Not only was Qin Yao confused, but everyone present was also taken aback.

What kind of time was this to be asking for money?!

"Hurry up!"

An Yi gritted his teeth and spoke earnestly.

Against a peak Void Realm opponent, he still had a fighting chance. But facing this guy who had transcended the Void Realm, his only option was to activate Berserk Mode.

But!

He didn’t have enough money.

An Corporation’s dividends wouldn’t be distributed until later this month.

The money he had left after recharging some lifespan was nearly gone.

"How much do you need?"

Seeing the urgency in An Yi’s expression, Qin Yao seemed to grasp the severity of the situation and quickly pressed for an answer.

An Yi replied, "Give me a billion first!"

Qin Yao’s hand, which had been about to make the transfer, froze.

"A billion..."

She didn’t have that kind of money—her dowry was only fifty million.

Lin Lan spoke up, "I have it."

Though she didn’t know why the kid needed the money, a billion was nothing to the ruler of the Underworld.

"Wait, is this kid trying to rob us in the middle of all this?"

An Underworld martial artist muttered under his breath, only to be glared at fiercely by King Taishan.

Right now, this kid was the Underworld’s only hope!

"It hasn’t gone through yet!"

An Yi raised an eyebrow.

Qin Yao said weakly, "It’s already sent. Large amounts take time to process..."

An Yi: "..."

At that moment, Michael silently appeared behind An Yi.

A slash of his light sword.

Clang!

An Yi sensed it just in time, hastily blocking with his Soulrend Dagger. The overwhelming force sent him flying back over ten meters, his entire arm throbbing with pain.

"I don’t know what tricks you’re playing at, but I won’t hold back anymore."

As Michael spoke, a white glow rippled around him, his wings spreading wide.

An Yi narrowed his eyes—this was the amplification effect of light energy.

In an instant, eight afterimages materialized in the sky, all charging toward An Yi.

An Yi took a deep breath, gripping the hilt of the Dragonfang Demonic Sword, and stepped forward with a sweeping slash.

A storm of sword energy engulfed the entire area ahead.

Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords, Third Form: Tempest!

Seven of the eight afterimages were instantly shredded by the sword energy.

Then, An Yi sensed something—his heart clenched.

Squelch!

A spear of condensed light energy pierced through An Yi’s chest.

"An Yi!"

Qin Yao screamed, about to rush forward.

"Stay back!"

An Yi clutched his chest, barely keeping himself upright. He channeled the last of his dark spiritual energy to dissolve the light spear.

"Interesting. You’re tougher than I expected."

Seeing the wound on An Yi’s chest gradually stop bleeding and heal, Michael’s expression grew serious.

Clearly, he had realized the secret of An Yi’s undying physique.

An Yi tightened his grip on the demonic sword, his expression grave.

This guy’s strength had surpassed the limits of this world. The sword energy from Tempest barely fazed him.

Just then, the system pinged.

The billion had arrived!

An Yi glanced at the system panel and instantly felt reassured.

Michael smirked, glancing at Lin Lan before saying slowly, "You want to save this woman?"

Then, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Thud!

A violent pulse echoed from Lin Lan’s chest. She clutched her heart, her pupils contracting as a trickle of blood escaped her lips. She collapsed, her face deathly pale, her vitality fading.

"Mom!"

Qin Yao caught Lin Lan’s body, letting out a heart-wrenching cry.

Lin Lan’s eyes closed—her heart had been pierced by a thread of light energy.

Michael’s smile widened. "I told you, I am a god. Killing a mere mortal is nothing to me."

"You bastard!"

A crimson hue flashed in An Yi’s eyes as his black hair transformed into long silver locks, fluttering in the wind.

Then, he raised a hand and donned a demonic mask.

His entire aura underwent a drastic change—cold, enigmatic, overwhelmingly powerful.

Michael’s careless expression finally turned serious.

An Yi’s strength seemed to have undergone a qualitative leap.

The sheer killing intent radiating from him sent a chill down Michael’s spine, despite his divine arrogance.

Flame Imbuement!

The Dragonfang Demonic Sword ignited, wreathed in flames.

An Yi held nothing back—this was his full power.

Michael’s gaze turned grave.

Once, he had believed himself the unrivaled ruler of this world.

Yet now, this kid barely twenty years old was pressuring him like never before.

If left unchecked for a few more years, how strong would he become? The thought terrified him.

This kid had to die.

Six wings unfurled behind Michael, his eyes glowing white.

In a flash—

Light streaked as Michael moved at an impossible speed, slashing down at An Yi.

Clang!

An Yi raised his sword, effortlessly blocking the strike.

When he looked up, his crimson eyes locked onto Michael’s.

A cold dread seeped into Michael’s heart.

Silver hair flowing, An Yi struck.

Bolts of lightning coiled around the blade, enveloping the Dragonfang Demonic Sword.

Dragon-Slaying Nine Swords, Fourth Form: Thunderbolt!

Whoosh!

An Yi’s sword shot forth like a bolt of lightning, leaving Michael no room to dodge.

Michael’s eyes flashed with madness as he crossed his wings to block.

Rip!

The lightning-wreathed sword pierced through one pair of wings.

The radiant feathers shattered into motes of light, scattering into the sky.

Michael’s expression darkened.

These wings were treasures he had obtained from the Holy Temple—and now one pair had been destroyed!

Sshink!

A sudden extension of Michael’s light sword stabbed through An Yi’s shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, An Yi pushed forward, transforming the demonic sword into a dagger and aiming for Michael’s throat.

Under the effect of Seal of Death, a strike to a vital point had a 50% chance of instant death!

Michael twisted violently, causing An Yi’s dagger to veer off course—instead slicing across his face, leaving a deep gash.

"Argh!"

A pained scream tore from Michael’s throat as his body erupted with light, forcibly repelling An Yi.

An Yi flipped the dagger in his grip, skidding back ten meters before coming to a stop, one hand braced against the ground.

"Almost had him!"

Regret flickered in An Yi’s eyes as the dagger shifted back into a sword.

A horizontal scar marred Michael’s face, blood dripping from the wound.

His elegance was gone—his gray-white hair disheveled, his visage now horrifying.

Seizing the moment, an Underworld martial artist swung a greatsword at Michael’s back.

An Yi’s pupils contracted. "No—!"

In an instant, the martial artist turned into light—vanishing without a trace.

An Yi sighed.

At their level of combat, anyone below the Void Realm was just cannon fodder.

Michael’s gaze was icy.

An Yi’s strength had exceeded all expectations. Never had he imagined someone in this world could reach such heights.

He looked up at the sky, basking in the sunlight.

Slowly, his light sword transformed into a massive greatsword.

Michael raised his sword, his twisted face glaring at An Yi: "Brat, sharing this world with you keeps me up at night!"

"Simple solution—you die, problem solved."

An Yi adjusted his demonic mask and replied with eerie calm.

A wave of savage, bone-chilling killing intent radiated from him.

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