Of course, Monk Huikong and the Pudu Cult being so frightened that they directly tucked their heads into their shells also came as something of a surprise to Meng Zhao.
In the end, he said nothing, merely sending word through the Pudu Cult messenger to Monk Huikong and the Pudu Cult Master: if they needed help with anything, they only had to ask.
This was actually an excellent opportunity. The Pudu Cult was enormous; its countless followers, its ever-emerging masters, and capable people from every walk of life were all scarce resources that could greatly strengthen and consolidate the foundations of a power.
Meng Zhao had long been drooling over them, but with Monk Huikong's presence and the alliance between them, it had not been convenient for him to make a move.
Now that the two of them had shrunk back on their own, if he, Meng Zhao, poached a few people from them, surely they could not blame him for it. Who told them to be so disappointing themselves?
Meng Zhao even entertained the thought of joining forces with Nameless Eunuch and Yu Changkong to put on a show, drive Monk Huikong and the Pudu Cult Master out of the north, then swallow the Pudu Cult whole in a single bite.
In the end, reason prevailed. It was not that the idea itself was bad, but that the risks hidden within it were simply too great.
For instance, would Nameless Eunuch and Yu Changkong turn around and bite him? Or, if he failed to kill the snake, would he instead suffer its venom?
Thus, this message was merely meant to express his attitude: he was still willing to help Monk Huikong and the Pudu Cult Master.
After the Pudu Cult messenger left, Meng Zhao began calmly waiting for news