Zhou Wangqiao's voice transmission through true qi was not only stiff, but its tone and content also carried a chill of indifference. He did not care in the least about the family power he had built with his own hands, treating it as a burden that could be discarded or kept as he pleased.
When it was useful, its existence was no great matter. When it was useless or even burdensome, he would cast it aside at once without the slightest reluctance.
In Meng Zhao's eyes, such decisiveness of temperament was also quite frightening.
Yet on careful thought, it was not entirely incomprehensible.
Back then, he had merely been a martial artist at the Innate Realm. Relying on his exceptional cultivation and formidable methods, he had carved out this foundation.
Now that he had attained the martial path of a Grandmaster, he stood among the world's foremost. Across the Divine Continent, he could roam freely. So long as he did not fear stronger enemies seeking revenge, he could establish an even more powerful and prosperous Zhou Family anytime, anywhere.
To put it bluntly, this world ultimately revered martial strength. Those with power spoke louder.
Thus, a force of the Zhou Family's current scale truly was dispensable to Zhou Wangqiao. It possessed neither irreplaceable status nor value that made it impossible to abandon.
Compared to the decisive and cold-hearted Zhou Wangqiao, Zhou Gushan clearly could not understand his grandfather's way of thinking.
Ever since he had come of age, he had regarded strengthening the Zhou Family of Lingwu City as his mission. He cultivated without cease, trained without cease, and even year after year, day after day, racked his brains and exhausted his strength—all for the Zhou Family's future.
Yet Zhou Wangqiao's attitude now directly denied his years of effort. How