It was already late, with only a few hours until dawn. Meng Zhao did not sleep. Instead, he sat cross-legged in meditation in a corner of the room, cultivating his qi while dividing his mind in two, plotting his next moves.
With his cultivation, going without sleep for one night would not affect his condition the following day.
He had gathered quite a bit of information on Su Tianwang's side and had planted spies in advance. If time permitted, and if Su Tianwang followed the usual procedure for the Evil Weapon Limit Break ritual, there was a good chance that Meng Zhao would emerge as the final victor.
What he was mainly planning now concerned the Dan Chi Clan. He did not know how Ji Rushuang's father would treat him, nor whether he could be persuaded to follow Meng Zhao's arrangements, infiltrate the Rebel Army, and secure a share of its power. Only then could Meng Zhao naturally integrate himself into the Rebel Army and lay the groundwork for the next step.
This was not Meng Zhao indulging in wild fantasies. Rather, it came from the belief that if Heaven bestowed an opportunity and one did not seize it, one would suffer for it instead.
Putting himself in their shoes, if he were the leader of the Rebel Army and knew that there was another force of tens of thousands in the mountains nearby—Dan Chi people, no less, famed as the source of elite soldiers—he would certainly rack his brains to bring them under his command and vastly broaden his war potential.
Thus, the Dan Chi Clan should already have received invitations or harassment from the Rebel Army.
The outcome was simple: either they agreed and joined the Rebel Army, or they refused, and the relationship between the two sides