This time, even quite a few True Blood nobles in the Royal Capital had learned of the mutual blockade between the military and the Buddhist Sect.
By now, more than a hundred spectators had gathered in the parks on both sides, talking animatedly amid the bustling excitement.
Some supported Wang Xuan, but even more supported the Buddhist Sect.
Wei He ignored them, raising his gaze to look toward the bridge deck in the distance.
At the center of Buddha Wheel Bridge sat a burly monk with dark skin and golden earrings.
Even while seated cross-legged, the monk stood a full two meters tall. His muscles looked as if they had been cast from gold and iron, seamlessly fused into one.
A blackened brass staff as thick as a fist lay across his knees.
Fine rain drifted down, falling upon both men.
Yet neither Wei He nor his opponent moved.
Whether True Blood or True Force, it was difficult to judge an opponent's strength merely by looking.
Only by truly exchanging blows could one know how much strength the other possessed.
After all, bloodlines, secret techniques, and the like amplified one's power far too greatly.
"Finally, someone worth looking at?" Wei He's expression remained unchanged as he strode forward step by step.
His boots stepped across the bridge deck, making faint scraping sounds.
Strangely, though there was drizzle, wind, and human voices, no sound could conceal the clarity of his footsteps.
The staff-wielding monk slowly rose to his feet. Holding the brass staff, he stood four meters tall before Wei He.
One was four meters tall, the other three. Though Wei He was a head shorter, his imposing presence lost nothing to the other's.
"Benefactor, your strength is exceptional. This poor monk admires you," the towering dark-skinned monk said with a