Some of the outer disciples prepared to attack, their eyes flashing as they prepared to attack Kahn and rescue their superior.
However, before anyone could take a single step forward, Ter frantically raised his uninjured left hand and signalled to them to stay down.
His face was pale and drenched in cold sweat, his trembling fingers cutting through the air in a desperate motion to stop them from making a fatal mistake that would get him killed instantly.
The disciples were deeply confused by the bizarre instruction, entirely unable to understand why a prominent inner disciple was allowing himself to be publicly humiliated by a stranger.
Despite their intense confusion, they didn’t dare to disobey a direct order from a superior, so they refrained from launching an attack.
Instead, a large crowd of them began quietly following behind the duo, whispering nervously among themselves as they tracked the white-haired stranger’s slow progress through the main courtyard.
Kahn casually glanced back at the growing crowd of onlookers, his eyes turning cold and sharp when he saw them persistently following behind him.
He had zero patience for games, and the sight of the trailing sect members threatened to delay his search for his sister.
Wanting to send a brutal, unmistakable warning to everyone present, he forcefully squeezed Ter’s ruined wrist again, except this time, he completely and utterly shattered the remaining fragments of bone in them.
Ter grunted loudly in intense agony, a sharp, choked cry escaping his lips as his facial features contorted into a mask of pure suffering from the fresh destruction of his arm.
But Kahn didn’t let up for even a single second; instead, he swiftly released the broken wrist and clamped his hand tightly around the man’s neck again.
His grip was unyielding, cutting off Ter’s vocal cords and preventing him from making another sound.
Using the monstrous, unchecked physical power of his supreme-grade physique, he slowly lifted Ter entirely off the hard ground by his neck alone, raising him high into the air for everyone to see.
The distinct, sickening crunching sound of his strong fingers tightening over Ter’s throat echoed softly but clearly in the quiet air of the courtyard, sending a wave of dread through the surrounding audience.
Ter’s legs kicked uselessly against the empty air, his hands clawing at Kahn’s unmoving arm in a pathetic display of helplessness.
Holding the gasping inner disciple aloft like a broken doll, Kahn slowly turned Ter’s writhing body directly toward the crowd of trailing disciples.
He looked at them with a piercing, domineering gaze and said in a bone-chillingly cold voice, "Back off, or I snap his neck."
The flat, emotionless tone left absolutely no room for doubt, making it crystal clear to everyone that he would execute the inner disciple without a moment’s hesitation if they took another step.
A few of the more hot-headed inner disciples in the back already had their hands placed firmly over their weapons, their knuckles white as they stood ready to draw them out of their sheaths and fight the intruder.
They wanted to defend the honor of the Raging Bulls sect and crush the arrogant white-haired man who had dared to invade their home.
Their hands, however, were violently trembling in fear against the leather grips of their swords, completely betraying their outward display of martial bravado.
Even their faces couldn’t hide the deep, paralyzing terror locked in their expressions as they looked at the sheer density of the aura radiating from Kahn.
The primal instinct of survival was screaming at them to stay back, freezing their bodies in place despite their anger.
The vast majority of the crowd gathered in the hallway were only low-ranking outer disciples, which meant they were only at the body tempering rank of cultivation.
They were fundamentally weak, possessing only basic physical enhancements, making them completely insignificant compared to true masters.
Seeing how effortlessly Kahn was easily maltreating a recognized Qi Condensation master like Ter—handling him like an insignificant piece of trash—made them fear what would happen to them if they tried fighting him.
They could also clearly sense the thick, oppressive aura of the powerful Qi oozing continuously out of Kahn’s body.
The raw spiritual energy rippled through the open air in heavy waves, making it undeniably obvious to everyone present that his strength had firmly reached the Qi condensation realm.
The terrifying weight of his presence pressed down on their chests like a boulder, suffocating their senses and proving without a doubt that he was a true master of the martial path.
Because of this overwhelming display of dominance, they weren’t even slightly confident in their ability to win, despite currently having the advantage of numbers on their side.
They knew that in the world of cultivation, a vast crowd of weaklings meant absolutely nothing to a true expert who could slaughter dozens of low-ranking cultivators in the blink of an eye.
It was exactly the same thing with the few genuine inner disciples scattered among the crowd, as they were also very wary of Kahn’s unpredictable strength.
Even though they had achieved the same major realm of cultivation, they could easily tell that they didn’t stand a chance against Kahn, which was clear from how Ter ended up.
They kept their distance, watching his every slight movement with sharp, hyper-vigilant eyes, refusing to carelessly throw their lives away for a meaningless display of pride.
It was entirely clear to everyone watching that whoever this strange cultivator was, he wasn’t a weakling at all.
He held himself with the absolute, untouchable confidence of a predator walking through a field of harmless prey.
As the tense silence stretched on, they all wondered in deep confusion who he truly was, or why he had even come to their sect in the first place, completely unable to pinpoint his origin or his hidden motives.
What made this entire volatile situation a hundred times worse for the Raging Bulls was that their sect leader had been away from the compound for a few days now, taking most of the elders along with him.
To make matters even more desperate, the old master wasn’t expected to return to the mountain for another few days.
This meant there was no one currently present in the entire sect they were confident could stand against this strange cultivator.
Without their strongest leader to anchor the compound, a deep, silent panic began to spread rapidly through the ranks of the gathered martial artists.
If only they actually knew that this magnificent, terrifying entity was none other than Kahn, the exact same pathetic, broken person that had been rotting in their deepest prison cell for months.
Ter signaled to them frantically once again, his right hand twitching weakly in the air as his entire face was rapidly turning an ugly, suffocating shade of deep purple from being choked so ruthlessly.
He could feel his consciousness actively slipping away beneath Kahn’s iron grip, and he desperately communicated through his frantic gestures that they should all immediately stand down before his neck was snapped like a twig.
The surrounding disciples glanced nervously at themselves, looking back and forth across the crowded hallway as they searched for any sign of a leader willing to take charge.
Finding the exact same expressions of terror mirrored in each other’s pale faces, they realized that none of them were truly willing to die... at least not now.
Accepting the grim reality of their helplessness, they slowly and submissively put their hands completely away from their weapons, lowering their guards in surrender to Kahn’s terrifying authority.