At this moment, faced with the Masked Youth's air of certain victory, Meng Zhao finally revealed his true edge as well, his lofty bearing on full display.
"Mortals? Hahaha, speaking of mortals, who exactly is the mortal?
"You merely claim to possess the Heavenly Emperor Bloodline. Whether that is truly the case remains uncertain.
"But do you know that, at the same level, whether Di Ku or I would be stronger is still an open question?
"When the day comes that my cultivation reaches its peak, I may well ascend above the Divine Land as a Heavenly Emperor.
"In truth, the one who should feel fortunate, who should feel proud, is you. With your abilities, being able to die by my hand may not be anything less than an honor."
Both in word and implication, Meng Zhao compared himself to the Five Emperors, even claiming that dying at his hands was an honor.
Such arrogance truly knew no bounds. If word got out, those great flamers would probably roast him until he shut himself away.
After all, it was fine for a person to be strong, and outsiders could lavish him with every possible praise. But if someone himself became so arrogant as to compare himself with the exalted Five Emperors, that was simply madness.
The Masked Youth seemed to have been provoked somehow—or rather, the spirituality within the mask had been challenged. The towering shadow behind him slowly solidified, then, like a phantom, gradually merged into his body.
What followed was the Masked Man's aura steadily weakening. Yet at the same time, a vast and sacred presence continuously awakened, as though some consciousness had roused itself from chaos.
Meng Zhao watched the scene before him in astonishment. The Masked Youth's ability to command Worldly Power had vanished, and his