Ever since Meng Zhao had used a tactic, taking advantage of the Pudu Cult's Holy Envoy to reveal Zhou Wangqiao's whereabouts, he had been waiting for the Pudu Cult Master's arrival and paying close attention to the matter.
Though snow and wind still blanketed the skies, and transportation remained paralyzed.
The impact on powerful martial artists was not particularly great, much less on martial arts powerhouses of the grandmaster level.
Unfortunately, he waited and waited, yet the man never came.
Unexpectedly, while he had been invited to the Prince's Mansion tonight for a banquet to discuss the vital matter of forming the Prefectural Army, the Pudu Cult Master arrived.
At that moment, a man abruptly stepped out from beside a table near the father and son, Beitang Ang and Beitang He. He had a pale, long-bearded face and wore a brown ru shirt.
His skin was delicate and fair as an infant's. He was tall, yet did not appear robust, carrying the airy bearing of a gaunt Daoist.
His eyes glittered with starlight, speckled with countless fragmented motes of light that contained a deep violet glow.
At first glance, they bore some resemblance to Meng Zhao's eyes.
Yet upon closer comparison, this man's gaze was clear and bright, while Meng Zhao's was deep as the sea. Amid its mystery lay a savage, tyrannical aura; their essential natures were different.
The moment he appeared, he warned Beitang Ang and Beitang He at his side, "This is a Peak Grandmaster. He descended upon Lingwu City with the speed of wind and thunder, his surging aura spilling outward and throwing your minds into turmoil, leaving you unable to control yourselves. But why would this man do such a thing?"
He could not make sense of it, for he knew too little. Even grandmaster-level