The Iron Fiend Fist martial artist, the old man with the braided beard, hurried over to Chen Jian and checked on his beloved disciple. Only after finding that nothing was seriously wrong did he finally relax.
But he had no idea that, interrupted by Wei He just now, his disciple had lost a once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes opportunity—a perfect chance to break through.
With this breakthrough now hopeless, one burst of effort would fade with the second and be exhausted by the third. Trying to break through later would only become even harder.
Since his beloved disciple was unharmed, he could not be bothered with any more nonsense. With one hand, he hoisted Chen Jian up and turned to leave.
Now that things had already turned sour, staying any longer would just be asking for trouble.
He had rushed here in the first place because he feared Chen Jian's rash temper would stir up disaster. Now that his purpose was fulfilled—and his own side had been in the wrong to begin with—the best course was to leave quickly.
Wei He watched Iron Fiend Fist depart. Then, once Master Zheng had recovered somewhat, he gave him a slight nod and a smile.
Only then did he feel at ease. Without wasting any time, he walked into the center of the arena.
"I am Wei He. Thank you, fellow practitioners, for coming to honor us with your presence. A small misunderstanding occurred just now, but fortunately, it has been resolved."
"If any fellow practitioners still wish to challenge me, feel free to step forward."
His words slowly echoed through the grounds.
But after witnessing what had just happened to Chen Jian of Iron Fiend Fist, everyone understood that this Wei He was not as mild-tempered as he appeared.
He had sent Chen Jian flying more