A light breeze swept past, stirring up a flurry of ice and snow, as though the sweltering day had slipped into the depths of winter.
Tang San could clearly feel the biting chill rushing toward him, needles vying to burrow through his exposed skin and stab him with pain.
But the resentment and fury in his heart made him ignore it. He continued steadily forward, stepping into the area covered by Meng Yiran's soul power aura.
His soles crunched crisply against the white frost covering the ground.
Meng Yiran had not withdrawn her martial soul. Holding her Dragon Spear, more than two meters long, she raised her face and quietly watched Tang San walk onto the arena, her expression composed.
Naturally, Meng Yiran noticed the hatred and resentment lurking in his eyes, but she remained unmoved and utterly unconcerned.
Tang San wanted to avenge Xiao Wu and wipe away his humiliation, but Meng Yiran was just as eager to lay into him and teach him a brutal lesson.
Thanks to Zhu Zhuqing and the other six sisters of the Martial Soul Hall Second Team, Meng Yiran had gained an entirely new impression of just what sort of creature Tang San was.
Besides being as ugly as ever, there was something wrong with his head. He seemed to be a hypocrite through and through.
On the surface, his mouth overflowed with righteousness. He was gentle, kind, respectful, frugal, humble, and pure as ice and jade. In truth, he was arrogant, selfish, and shamelessly hypocritical, judging good and evil solely by his own feelings.
Anything he did had to be right and just. Anything others did that failed to suit his wishes was wrong and evil.
In other words, only what benefited him counted as justice. Anything that harmed his interests was