Old Eighth slapped his thigh, his eyes practically breathing fire, though he still sounded surprised and confused.
"Isn't the gang leader pulling my leg? Meng Zhao, Lord of the Northern Meng Dragon King, the Peerless Prodigy of our Northern Lands, ranked alongside Shen Tianci of the south—now that he has cultivated Grandmaster Martial Dao, who hasn't heard of him?
You mean that young man is Lord of the Northern Meng Dragon King, Meng Zhao?
His age and bearing do match, but no matter how formidable he is, surely he isn't enough to make the gang leader bow his head and submit, is he?"
Was Meng Zhao formidable? Of course he was. By now, the Northern Lands had reached a consensus: he was an unparalleled fierce man. At barely twenty, he had cultivated Grandmaster Martial Dao. No one could say how far he might go in the future. He was absolutely a superlative prospect, and had already fulfilled part of that potential, becoming a major figure in his own right.
To be honest, Grandmaster Meng Zhao killing Lu Hou'er in seconds would not have been a problem.
But while Meng Zhao was certainly formidable, compared to Tan Changming's family, he might not necessarily be able to steadily overpower them. Had Lu Hou'er and those martial world bigwigs truly submitted to Meng Zhao so willingly?
They were Yanzhou men. It was not as though Yanzhou lacked pillars holding up the sky.
Lu Hou'er snorted coldly. Naturally, he knew what Old Eighth did not understand, and said,
"I can only say that unless you come into contact with Dragon King Meng in person, you will never understand how terrifying he is.
And there is one thing you got wrong. Dragon King Meng is no longer a Grandmaster martial artist. He is a Great