Lingwu City, western district, Peace Ward, Brightlight Road.
The street was broad, clean, and orderly. People flowed back and forth, shoulder brushing shoulder, while rows upon rows of shops stretched out like an unfurled painting, drawing one into this prosperous, wealthy, vibrant world.
Lingwu City was undoubtedly one of the top three great cities in the Northern Lands. Its prosperity, wealth, vast territory, and abundant resources were beyond comparison with ordinary places.
Xie Wanzhi wore a dark-blue robe, with a long sword hanging at his waist, dressed like an ordinary member of the Jianghu Martial Arts World. He moved through Brightlight Road, drinking in taverns at times, savoring tea in teahouses at others, and visiting flower houses to admire their blossoms now and then. He was busy beyond measure.
To anyone who saw him, he was merely an obscure nobody with dreams in his heart but limited strength. No one would have imagined that his martial prowess had reached the Great Grandmaster realm, making him one of the foremost experts of the age.
He had already been in Lingwu City for two days. He had not gone to the Meng Family, merely wandered through the city, observing and gathering information.
On Brightlight Road, inside an extravagantly decorated restaurant with three floors, a storyteller stood in the eastern corner of the first-floor hall, speaking with flying spittle and surging passion as he recounted a shocking battle.
The protagonists of that battle were none other than Meng Zhao, whose reputation had now reached its peak in the Jianghu Martial Arts World, and the Heavenly Demon Palace Lord, who was said to have suffered mutual destruction with him.
He truly deserved to be a storyteller given his own stage in such a grand restaurant. His voice rang with force, rising and falling with