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Meng Zhao naturally sensed the complex gazes faintly gathering around him, each one like a sharp needle pricking his body. His killing intent vanished at once, like clear skies after rain, and he smiled.

"Ha ha, Young Master Song, don't be afraid. Even if I want to kill you, it won't be today.

After all, today's protagonists are not you and me. But after today, you'd best be more careful."

Though Meng Zhao harbored a fierce tiger in his breast, with layered mountains in his belly, and possessed a spirit so grand that nothing under heaven was beyond defeating or killing,

he was not some arrogant, self-important fool who knew not the immensity of heaven and earth. He understood perfectly well that no matter how high his cultivation was, he was not invincible beneath heaven, much less a match for the many experts gathered by Mingxiu Lake. Killing someone here would be foolish beyond foolishness.

Of course, neither did he play any vague, cloud-wreathed game of probing with Song Zhiwen. He plainly told him that he had identified him as the culprit who had once plotted to poison him, without concealing his intent to kill in the slightest.

Song Zhiwen's expression stiffened, turning exceedingly ugly. At some point, his fingertips had pressed clear cracks into the handle of the folding fan in his hand. Evidently, his mood was far from pleasant as he said,

"Young Master Meng, have you truly decided that I was the one plotting against you in secret? Aren't you afraid of falling into a treacherous scheme, being toyed with by another, and letting the real culprit go?"

Meng Zhao shook his head. His bright, keen eyes flashed with resolute light.

"I am not an idiot. I can tell right from wrong. You are very clever; you