This involved a question of who held the initiative.
Meng Zhao was no nameless nobody, nor was he some muddleheaded fool who could not tell what was what. On the contrary, his Unrivaled Martial Arts made him a mighty hero in his own right.
If they wanted him to act, they could—but the price for his intervention was not something ordinary people could afford.
Zhao Rulíng was a supreme Celestial being, born into the Beitang Imperial Clan, an Old Monster who had lived for who knew how many years. He certainly possessed deep reserves, and Meng Zhao believed that he could offer a reward that would satisfy him.
But as the saying went, a deal was never made by rushing to someone's door. If they wanted Meng Zhao's help, they had to show the proper attitude.
Likewise, Zhao Rulíng understood that since Liu An and the other two had already conveyed his words to Meng Zhao, Meng Zhao could not possibly be unaware that his injuries had lingered without healing. The implication in his words had been practically blunt.
Could Meng Zhao not understand why he had invited him here?
Still, Zhao Rulíng was also a master of social dealings. He had his own way of grasping and controlling the relationship between them.
Rather than state his purpose directly, he asked,
"Dragon King Meng, you made your name while young. Your martial arts are unrivaled, your wealth abundant, and your family illustrious. You may be called a winner in life. You lack neither money nor power, neither women nor martial arts. Everything in this world lies within easy reach—what else could you possibly want?"
It had to be said that this was a deafening question, one that struck at the root of many people's confusion.
Those at the bottom struggled