The crowds scattered and fled from the street.
There were no screams, no cries of alarm. Everyone had long grown used to martial artists fighting in the streets.
Wei He swept his gaze around. The street was already empty. Everyone had fled in different ways, their movements practiced. Clearly, this was not their first encounter with such a thing.
At this moment, apart from the ring of corpses lying around him, there was not another soul in sight.
"They dared cause trouble on Wanfei Palace's turf. The Incense Gathering Cult truly has gone mad."
Dragging the corpse along, he turned and returned to the exhibition hall.
Inside the hall, a group of people stood around Lu Weisheng's corpse, looking at one another in dismay, somewhat flustered.
The Song brothers and Wang Zui hid off to one side, doing their utmost to minimize their presence in the corner.
The other guests who had come to view the exhibition clustered together under the protection of Myriad Poison Sect martial masters, their expressions wary.
Wei He's return immediately drew everyone's attention.
At the sight of him, Lu Weisheng's underlings all looked tense.
Now that Lu Weisheng was dead and the Incense Gathering Cult expert backing them had also been slain on the spot—
What awaited them was an even more perilous unknown. It all depended on how Wei He chose to deal with them.
The Song brothers and Wang Zui, however, looked relieved, knowing they were safe.
But Song Shixiong knew he had intended to bring disaster upon Wei He. He hurriedly stepped forward, grinning obsequiously.
"Foster Father above! Please accept this bow from your son!"
Without another word, he dropped to his knees and knocked his head against the ground several times.
The sight of that shameless face made even his brother