Within a haze of pale blue water vapor, Wen Tingdao's figure emerged. He regarded Shun Dongxiao with a mocking look, but soon furrowed his brow, sensing that something about the Shun Dongxiao before him was off.
"Wen Tingdao!" Shun Dongxiao's blood-puppet clone immediately turned ashen. He had thought things might take a turn, but he had never imagined they could go this badly. That fellow Kunshan had not only failed to show up, he had also brought the fearsome dragon powerhouse Wen Tingdao down on him. Shun Dongxiao had kept some of his strength in reserve, but he wasn't so arrogant as to think he could take on Wen Tingdao.
Among the seven divisions of the Dragon Race in this secret realm, Wen Tingdao had earned a fearsome reputation. He was recognized as the foremost Golden Immortal-level powerhouse not only among the Dragon Race, but also by the Corpse Race and the Qilin Race.
Still, facing Wen Tingdao wasn't what he found hardest to accept. After all, only a blood-puppet clone had come. This proved that caution was never misplaced. Losing one clone would certainly cost Shun Dongxiao something, since he had infused it with a strand of his spiritual consciousness and a considerable amount of dragon essence. But the loss was one he could afford.
What truly troubled Shun Dongxiao was that, even now, he had no idea what had gone wrong. Originally, only Kunshan, Feng Qingye, Kun Sha, and a few other Golden Immortal-level powerhouses knew where they were supposed to meet. Now not one of Kunshan's group had shown up, and instead they had brought that fellow Wen Tingdao.
Shun Dongxiao was suspicious by nature, so he couldn't help wondering whether Kunshan was using someone else to kill him—discarding him once he was no longer useful. Unable