With a crack like the vault of heaven shattering, within a twenty-mile radius of where Meng Zhao and Wu Huaien clashed, countless massive pillars of lightning blazed across the sky, electric arcs flashed like pythons, and fierce winds swept ice and snow, rainwater, toward the earth...
Beitang He, Mad Fist, Peach Blossom Scholar, and the guards watched as the True Dragon manifestation behind Meng Zhao grew ever more solid and vast. Its six-clawed dragon talons were lifelike, carrying endless majesty and dominance. Amid rumbling thunder, they forcibly snapped and crushed the enormous blade Wu Huaien had transformed into, leaving them trembling with fear.
There was no other reason: the destructive power and might produced by Meng Zhao and Wu Huaien fighting with all their strength were simply too earth-shattering. It almost made them feel as though they had returned to the Middle Ages—or even the Ancient Times—when ruthless figures were everywhere and powerful experts stood as thick as forests.
And the outcome of this move now seemed clear. Meng Zhao, the Lord of the Northern Meng Dragon King, had defeated Wu Huaien, a Heartless Path grandmaster, through an absolute disparity in strength, proving that his claim of defeating his opponent in a single move had not been wild boasting, but fact.
Of course, this result stirred different emotions in different people.
For someone like Beitang He, there was nothing more to say. He grinned so broadly that he nearly laughed aloud, delighted beyond measure. Meng Zhao's strength showed him just how unnecessary his earlier worries had been.
What concern over changes in the city's situation? What reluctance to let Meng Zhao clash with the Demonic Path and give outsiders an opening? All of it was bullshit.
With Meng Zhao's current peerless cultivation and combat power, along with the Yangwu Army