The six fellow disciples reached a consensus through silent voice transmission.
Meng Zhao remained calm and composed, sizing up Zhang Zhichong and his group with great interest, like a cat toying with mice.
He suddenly sensed an invisible force spreading outward, his body instinctively reacting as though a cool breeze had brushed across his face.
The Emperor's Qi Gazing Technique activated. Within his gaze, he saw a concealed killing intent and battle aura. Though they were doing their utmost to hide it, they fell into his eyes like blazing torches. Clearly, the other side could no longer hold back.
"They know there can be no peaceful end today, so they are ready to risk their lives. What a pity, what a pity. Zhang Kuan has vanished without a trace, and no one knows where he is. Otherwise, there might have been some twists and turns today."
Zhang Kuan was Zhang Zhichong's biological father. His martial arts were exceptionally profound. Back in Lingwu City, though his reputation had not been the loudest, he had faced countless opponents and never met a match, never suffered a defeat.
The reason he had no great fame was that he deliberately concealed his edge and diminished his own presence. He was a true master.
Meng Zhao did not know of the many vile deeds from Zhang Kuan's early years, nor did he know that this was a ruthless man who, for martial arts and secret techniques, could offer up his fiancée—or serve as a woman's male favorite.
But from the information he had gathered, Meng Zhao knew that Zhang Kuan's martial arts were far superior to Zhang Zhichong's. Perhaps as early as years ago, he had already reached the level of the Pudu Cult's Four Dharma Kings.
The reason Zhang Zhichong had been able to