Zhang Lingxiao was dead, his Yin Spirit scattered into dust.
All the Daoists of Dragon Tiger Mountain stared at Zhang Lingxiao's ashes, feeling as if they had been struck by lightning!
A Celestial Master of his generation, annihilated in body and soul right before his own sect's gates.
And they... they hadn't even had the courage to make a move.
An indescribable grief washed over them.
Wang Xiao didn't care what this group of Dragon Tiger Mountain Daoists was thinking.
He could not have spared Zhang Lingxiao's life, and he certainly wouldn't have let him reincarnate.
After all, he had no control over the affairs of the Underworld.
If Zhang Lingxiao's Yin Spirit had become a Soul Collector, like Ning Xiaodie, or had been appointed as a City God, it would have been a nuisance for him, one way or another.
Though Wang Xiao didn't fear Zhang Lingxiao, he disliked leaving things to chance.
Killing him outright was better!
