Was Meng Zhao a good man? Certainly not. So he had no interest in playing the Young Hero who drew his blade to right wrongs when he saw injustice. The reason he had saved the Chen Family in Kun'nan back then was because he had intended to plant a nail and establish a bridgehead.
But Liang Prefecture's situation was far too complicated, with chaos erupting everywhere. The nail Meng Zhao had set his sights on was those roughly twenty thousand elite Rebel Army soldiers. He lacked such patience and tolerance for anyone else within the province.
Not to mention that the people now asking him for help were complete strangers whose backgrounds he knew nothing about. Yet they were so eager to seek his aid. Given Meng Zhao's temperament, how could he indulge them?
Seeing the carriage driven by the coachman hurtling rapidly toward him, Meng Zhao's Purple Eye flashed. A faint thread of Dragon Might burst forth. It contained no tangible power, yet invisibly and viciously stimulated the four Dragon Steeds' extraordinarily thin, nearly nonexistent dragon bloodlines.
How tyrannical and mighty was the majesty of a true dragon—sacred and not to be looked upon directly? Moreover, Meng Zhao possessed the Purple Origin Dragon Body. What he would eventually transform into was the Emperor Dragon Body, capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with the Primordial Two Dragons.
The four Dragon Steeds, not even worthy of being called ferocious beasts, sensed Meng Zhao's terrifying aura—fierce and sacred, majestic as might, oppressive as prison—and were instantly frightened out of their wits. Blood sprayed from their mouths and nostrils, their four legs went limp, and all four died on the spot, crashing down onto the snowy ground with several thunderous booms.
The sudden change caught the coachman wholly off guard. Yet he possessed