The more one knew, the more one understood reverence. The more muddleheaded one was, the more fearless and unafraid one became.
Only now did Lei Chongmao understand why his father, whom he had once so admired, had submitted at Meng Zhao's feet.
It was not that he had grown old, nor that he had become muddleheaded. It was that Meng Zhao's strength truly defied description—a feeling that could only be grasped in the heart, never conveyed in words.
Of course, Lei Chongmao's attitude and thoughts toward Meng Zhao were now quite different from before.
Previously, he had always regarded Meng Zhao as an opponent, an enemy, someone he had to struggle against in order to fight for his own interests.
Now, however, he was filled with gratitude and respect, for this man was his martial path's second parent, the one who had given him a helping hand upon the road of martial arts.
Without Meng Zhao, he had no idea what year or month he might have broken through to the Grandmaster realm. He knew even less whether, in this lifetime, he would have had the chance to make up for the shortcomings and regrets left behind by his youthful cultivation.
It was precisely these thoughts that made Lei Chongmao, who had just attained the martial path of a Grandmaster and should have been high-spirited and radiant, step forward, cup his fists, bend at the waist, and salute.
"Chongmao thanks the Dragon King for the grace of remaking and elevating me."
Everything was understood without being spoken. There was no need for superfluous words. At least for now, Lei Chongmao truly had the impulse to die for one who understood him.
He was even pondering how he had to choose the most beautiful younger sister and send her to Meng