The meeting took place in a large house Meng Zhao had recently built. It was bright and spacious, with hundreds of golden lamps floating overhead. The vast room was as bright as day.
Yet within such an enormous space, there were only two people.
One was Meng Zhao. The other was the White Dragon Venerable Society's Sixth Dragon Head.
Unexpectedly, this Sixth Dragon Head wore neither a veil nor a mask. Instead, he openly displayed his face.
He looked to be around fifty, with a long, narrow face, gloomy brows, thin lips, and a high nose bridge. He possessed a certain heroic handsomeness, tempered by the rich mellowness accumulated through time. He was a striking and outstanding man.
Like a lone tree rising above the forest, he stood out in a crowd at a single glance.
Yet Meng Zhao's eyes were sharp. He could tell that this man had most likely altered his appearance and disguised himself.
At the very least, judging from what he sensed, this White Dragon Venerable Society Sixth Dragon Head was definitely not fifty. With the vigorous vitality contained within him, he was certainly no more than thirty.
This was the extraordinary perception Meng Zhao had gained in recent years after his Three Points Return to One Qi reached great completion, his vital energy nourishing his essence and spirit in return. It was not a divine ability, yet it resembled one.
Thus far, Meng Zhao's senses had never been wrong. In other words, this man was likely indeed under thirty, yet had already risen to become the White Dragon Venerable Society's Sixth Dragon Head.
Who knew whether he had inherited the lingering glory of his forebears, or whether he was truly so exceptional that he had been promoted solely through his talent and ability.
While Meng