"Your martial arts are formidable, and your talent is excellent as well. You shouldn't be some obscure nobody. State your name."
The Masked Man retreated several steps. Though uncertainty flickered in his heart, he began to ponder and said to Meng Zhao in a deep voice.
He prided himself on the nobility of his bloodline and the superiority of his family background. He was not afraid of the man before him. There were few people in this world who could make him afraid, and the young man opposite him was certainly not among them.
Still, since the other party possessed such strength, there was no need to offend him. He wanted to learn his identity first before deciding what to do.
It was the typical practice of serving dishes according to the guests.
Yet upon hearing him, Meng Zhao was greatly disappointed. He shook his head and sighed.
"Vulgar. How vulgar. You're a master too. When you attacked just now, your killing intent was icy and fierce, bent on taking my life. Why, now that you see you can't win, are you asking about my family background?
"Are you looking for a way to step down gracefully, so we can shake hands and make peace?
"And someone like you managed to cultivate martial arts to such a realm? It seems you either encountered some extraordinary fortune, or someone piled resources upon you."
Meng Zhao understood martial artists born into great powers very well. With abundant resources at their disposal, even a pig, if fed well enough, could be raised into a savage pig beast—let alone a human?
The Southern An Meng Family was a special case. Because of the peculiarities of the Red Flag Order, which required one to accumulate deeply before bursting forth, the differences were not especially apparent.