Outside the military camp, beside a gently flowing river that shimmered beneath the moonlight, a violent gale suddenly rose, whipping up sand and stones as though some ferocious thing had descended.
A moment later, a winding mass of qi several zhang long leaped down from the sky. When it reached the jagged, rock-strewn ground, however, it made not a sound, drifting down as lightly as a feather.
The newcomer was Meng Zhao. Using the True Dragon Myriad Dao Method he had created himself, he had traveled like a roaming dragon, swift as wind and thunder, to this stretch of riverbank.
He was roughly two li from the military camp, yet incomparably close to that familiar power he sensed.
Meng Yuanqiao did not play any mysterious games. He appeared directly, Zhao Hun in hand. His eyes burned like twin furnaces as he stared at Meng Zhao, only to discover in shock that he could no longer see through this man's martial cultivation or foundations at all.
This... his martial arts have undergone another qualitative leap. Could it be... could it be that he has entered the master realm?
In the days just after Meng Zhao had returned, Meng Yuanqiao had in fact observed this supposed junior of the family from afar. His foundations had indeed been deep and matchlessly robust, yet traces of an Innate Realm Warrior could still be seen. That sharpness and tyranny had blazed like the sun in the heavens, sweeping through all before it.
That kind of power was something Meng Yuanqiao could see and others could feel. It was like wearing glittering golden clothes and incomparably precious ornaments, just short of telling everyone, I am rich.
Yet Meng Zhao now displayed an utterly different level. All his sharpness had been drawn inward, without the slightest trace