In truth, it could not be denied that Meng Zhao possessed, deep in his bones, a pride that set him above the people of this world. He had been reincarnated from another world; by the logic of the novels he had once read, he was unquestionably a Son of the Plane, blessed with the protagonist's halo.
He also bore a divine artifact, possessed a body of profound and miraculous creation, and had countless fortuitous encounters and blessings heaped upon him. He was a legendary figure rarely seen in ten thousand ages. Even a native of this world would inevitably grow proud and overbearing under such circumstances—let alone him.
Yet Meng Zhao's pride, rooted deep in his bones, rarely showed itself because of his temperament. Fearing that he might become some petty man who ran wild the moment he found success, he had always watched his words and actions, worked diligently, and suppressed and restrained that pride.
Undergoing a transformation like breaking free from a cocoon naturally would not expose his true nature because of it. He merely displayed such powerful confidence because Meng Zhao truly had an eighty- or ninety-percent certainty of success.
Moreover, as Meng Zhao's martial realm became ever more exquisite and lofty, the various flaws in his innate talent and character were also being consciously corrected.
The three employed their lightness skills all the way and soon arrived outside the estate. Along the way, Yuan Bin used sound transmission to notify a burly woman within the estate, telling her to inform the middle-aged steward to prepare for evacuation at any time...
An ancient tree, its verdant shade spread like an umbrella, stood there with its branches and leaves tangled together so densely that even sunlight could not penetrate. It was dim and chilly, silent as an airtight