Making Contact
Among scholars, there was no definitive first place; among warriors, there could only be one champion.
Enmenam, who had fought his way through the Saint's Association, was bound to be disappointed if he hoped to find a sense of superiority with Li Bai.
Li Bai quite naturally refused this unreasonable request. He had no intention of beating up a guest from prehistory first thing in the morning.
In a harmonious society, people should get along. What was the point?
He wasn't a Bodhisattva. He wasn't going to grant the wish of everyone who came asking to be beaten.
The truth was, Li Bai didn't want the Saint's Association to find out for nothing that he had the power to wipe them out single-handedly. Wasn't it better to let them remain ignorant and fearless?
Enmenam already had the strength to flatten the Seven Saints. Even if all eight Saints were present, the final outcome probably wouldn't be any different.
Either he would become a new Saint, or he would leave all the Saints—including Hercules, the Saint of Strength—unable to eat or sleep, wondering all day long what this Li fellow was planning.
That would inevitably make people suspicious. Li Bai simply had no interest in becoming some lousy Saint. It was as simple as that.
He'd come to gather intelligence at his girlfriend's request. What kind of undercover agent ended up becoming the boss? That was ridiculous!
This prehistoric man would need some time to adapt to modern society. Li Bai had witnessed a miracle, so he didn't plan to stay any longer. Even though Hercules, whom he considered a close friend, tried his hardest to persuade him to stay, Li Bai still took the two demonesses and said his farewells.
They'd spent all night roasting a hundred camels,