"A saber wielder from the Northern Prefecture, Lu Jia, pays his respects to you all-cowards."
To make his act more convincing, Liu Lang had deliberately used a Northern Prefecture accent. Though not quite fluent, he had spent time in Mobei and met people from the Northern Prefecture. A touch of the accent would suffice.
But his words grated terribly on everyone's ears.
Apart from Ge Laosan, who harbored his own ulterior motives, everyone stared at him with dark expressions.
"Lu Jia of the Northern Prefecture?"
"Never heard of him."
"A nameless nobody dares insult me?"
"You're courting death!"
Though everyone present was cowed by Dragon Tiger's edge and feared his strength, each was more arrogant than the next toward Liu Lang-or, for that matter, the other members of the Unorthodox Path around them.
The hot-tempered Weng Jinghe in particular sat in his grand armchair, his bulk rivaling nearly half the Unorthodox Path members present. He glared at Liu Lang. "Who the hell are you to call me a coward?"
He clenched his fist and grinned savagely. "Or is your saber harder than my fist?"
Slightly taller than him, Liu Lang raised his chin and gave him a contemptuous glance. "Never mind how sharp my saber is. I've got far more guts than you."
"After all, Dragon Tiger isn't even here yet, and you're already itching to kneel and lick his feet. I truly-despise it."
"You!"
"Sharp-tongued brat!"
"You're asking for death!"
Weng Jinghe's aura erupted. As he rose, he stamped heavily on the ground, shattering the wooden floor, and sent a plain, direct punch at Liu Lang.
Excitement flashed through Liu Lang's eyes. He abruptly lowered his body, gathered a little momentum, and drew his saber in a diagonal upward slash to meet the fist.
Crack!
Fist and saber collided