Zhong Heng stepped out of the tent and saw clusters of attendants and guards waiting for him. A surge of satisfaction immediately welled up from the depths of his heart. He felt that every effort he had made until now had been worth it.
A crowd was a treasure, and a crowd that obeyed was more precious than treasure. It was like an extension of one's limbs, capable of turning some lucky man into a giant in an instant.
Zhong Heng believed himself to be that lucky man. He had once been submerged in the crowd, exhausting himself trying to fathom the subtle intentions of his superiors. He had struggled for years without managing to distinguish himself. Only after meeting the Dragon King had his fate changed.
The Dragon King would have to take revenge sooner or later, Zhong Heng thought as he walked, dozens of men clustered behind him.
Unlike Fang Wenshi, Zhong Heng had never believed that revenge and the struggle for supremacy contradicted each other. Quite the contrary—he had seen through how important hatred was to the Dragon King. Erase that, and the Dragon King would be nothing more than an excellent killer. Zhong Heng was willing to claim a place in the Dragon King's cause of revenge, and he became even more enthusiastic when the target was Wei Song.
Wei Song had been pressing down on him for years, one of the important reasons he had been unable to advance amid the crowd. The two of them also shared the enmity of a slain son. If this had been in the Central Plains, Zhong Heng would have vanished from this world long ago, without making a sound louder than a mosquito.
The second watch had passed, and the third had yet to arrive. It was the