Within Lingwu City's Meng Family Manor, inside an exceptionally tall and magnificent palace.
Liang Muqiu wore a sapphire-blue fitted martial outfit, her long hair coiled into a married woman's bun. Her bright eyes gloomily fixed on the challenge letter before her.
At her side stood Lü Yue, Han Pu, and Meng Chuan.
Beside Lü Yue's hand lay a stack of letters as tall as a desk. Though they were merely sheets of paper, the pressure they brought upon everyone in the palace was no less than that of the challenge letter.
"Madam Liang, these are the letters sent over the past three days by forces great and small from Ji, Liang, and Yanzhou. Every one of them urges the Young Master to accept the challenge, so as to safeguard the Martial Dao Fortune of our human race in the Northern Lands from suffering a setback.
"The Southern An Meng Family has also sent a letter, left by the family head. Its purpose is to urge the Young Master to delay this matter for now. He absolutely must not agree to it so readily."
Lü Yue also found the matter exceedingly thorny. Meng Zhao was now at the center of the storm. Others could simply wash their hands of it, but he alone had been put over the fire to roast. No matter how it was handled, it would be difficult.
In truth, this was not the first time Liang Muqiu had gathered them to address this matter. But they were not gods, incapable of solving every trouble. After discussing it back and forth, they still could not make the decision. Everything could only be left for Meng Zhao himself to decide.
This was also the atmosphere Meng Zhao had always striven to create. All power appeared to be delegated to