Meng Zhao's thoughts were simple. The Meng Family's vast prospects and imposing power today were, in truth, more than half built upon his supreme divine arts.
If—if Meng Zhao had not been an invincible figure who could roam unhindered, then no matter how responsible he was, how scheming, how resourceful, or even how powerful his background, it would have been a fantasy for him to build the Meng Family into what it was today. Simply impossible.
The reason was simple as well. Martial artists admired the strong and yearned for strength.
A person who possessed only political cunning and methods, yet lacked even the strength to truss a chicken, could never earn martial artists' recognition or approval.
Without powerful martial artists, any so-called faction was nothing more than a castle in the air.
Therefore, Meng Zhao's martial arts were the core of the Meng Family. The stronger he became, the stronger the Meng Family became, and vice versa.
This reasoning did indeed make sense.
At the very least, if Meng Zhao had simply followed the usual course in Lingwu City, never venturing out to explore, travel, or encounter fortuitous opportunities, he could never have cultivated his current martial arts in such a short time—much less attained such a scene and momentum.
Liang Muqiu understood this as well. Her insight was by no means something ordinary women could compare to.
But knowing was easy while doing was hard. She was still too concerned for Meng Zhao's safety and did not want any mishap to befall him.
"Then, since you've already decided, there's nothing more I can say. Do you have any other instructions?"
Liang Muqiu knew that once Meng Zhao had made a decision and taken such a firm stance, he would not be easily swayed. She suppressed her feelings and