Meng Zhao's reputation in the north was now at its zenith. So long as a martial artist was not utterly cut off from news, they would know that by Mingxiu Lake, he had single-handedly defeated and slain more than a dozen Xiantian experts, including powerhouses from the Lei Family. He had even entered the water to battle the Green Frog Poison Newt, a tyrant among ferocious beasts—and won...
That battle alone sent his prestige soaring, shaking the realm. Countless martial artists hailed him as a ceiling-level expert among the younger generation, his name standing alongside Shen Tianci of the south. Besides the Dragon King, he was also called Northern Meng.
This news had spread like thunder across the land. Though it still needed time to ferment, in the north, virtually everyone already knew of it—and those of the Demonic Path were no exception.
Thus, upon learning that the fair, handsome youth was actually Meng Zhao, the peerlessly domineering and supremely skilled Dragon King, this Xiantian expert was so agitated, shocked, and bewildered.
Could this spotless, refined youth, like a little white rabbit, truly be that Dragon King who had dominated an era? He was rather too different from what they had imagined.
Of course, the shock brought by that contrast in appearance was only temporary. More importantly, this Xiantian expert could not understand why Meng Zhao would brave such enormous danger to come here.
Under normal circumstances, Meng Zhao should have had absolutely nothing to do with the Demonic Path, much less appear here to attend the Demon Gathering. Yet he even seemed to get along quite well, harmoniously, with some of its people.
Was he not afraid that his identity would be exposed and that everyone would rise up to attack him?
Not to mention that Xiantian experts of