Meng Zhao vaguely understood what Xie Wen was thinking; it was probably not too different from what he had said.
If placed in modern society, the Divine Might Army would be a bona fide terrorist organization—one with outrageously formidable combat strength.
Gangs and capitalists were nothing compared to it. These were madmen who dared launch an assault on the ruling regime, and a whole pack of madmen armed with terrifying force at that.
As for Xie Wen, though he seemed to be an important figure in no small power, he was, at most, merely a senior executive within a group. How could he not fear people from such a terrorist organization?
If he truly angered the Divine Might Army, they could make his life a living hell, and there would be no effective way for him to retaliate.
One force broke ten thousand techniques. Once strength reached a certain level, tricks were utterly useless; they would only bind one's own hands and feet.
As for reporting them, that was wishful thinking. After all, Xie Wen and his people had shit all over their pants themselves. They had supplied the Divine Might Army with logistical resources on many occasions; calling them accomplices and partners would not be an exaggeration.
Naturally, his attitude toward the Divine Might Army was simply not to offend them. Whatever they wanted to know, he would tell them.
"Very well. Then tell me: why did your Xie Family support the Divine Might Army? Could it be as the rumors in the martial world claim—that Madam Xie could not endure her loneliness and had some shameful relationship with Longcheng, which was why she would rather suffer enormous losses than give them her full support?"
This was the core question. Only by understanding why Widow Xie had funded them