Mettle

"Was that a Thunderclap Pellet from the Ku Hai lineage? No, there was poison mist mixed inside as well. And that person's lightness skill was so superb, so adept at concealing qi and hiding their presence. Just who was this expert?"

Xiang Yang frowned tightly. Barefoot, he stood alone in the prison courtyard, now resembling ruins, and silently pondered.

In his early years, he had once fought Zhao Dehan of the Ku Hai lineage.

The other man possessed a formidable weapon called the Thunderclap Pellet, much like a bomb. Once triggered with inner force, it unleashed a powerful impact, and its might was considerable.

However, that Thunderclap Pellet should have been made from certain flammable and explosive compounds.

The person who had just intervened to rescue Wanyan Bo was different. They seemed to have added several potent poisons, though poison was poison—their strength was still lacking.

In other words, that person's martial arts were perhaps even inferior to Wanyan Bo's. It was only through strange methods that they had succeeded in rescuing Wanyan Bo from Xiang Yang's grasp.

"It was a pity Wanyan Bo got away. I never had the chance to probe this man's identity or the secrets of his bloodline, and he bears considerable hatred toward me. With no small amount of potential besides, he will be trouble.

But there is no need to brood over it. Though future troubles may be endless, as long as I forge ahead with courage and rise step by step, with my strength assured, what have I to fear from another's threats?"

Xiang Yang sighed. He felt only a slight regret before letting it go; his regret outweighed his wariness.

By this day, Xiang Yang had swept across Yongzhou. After years of campaigns and conquests, he had long cultivated the bearing of