Zhou Heng had arrived at just the right time. If he had come one day later, Zhong Yuetian and the others would already have set off.
Early the next morning, Sang Qingshan took Zhou Heng on the road to join up with Zhong Yuetian and the others.
They were neither the first nor the last to arrive. Seven people had already reached the meeting place before them, from three different families. There were men and women among them, all appearing to be young people in their teens or twenties.
—A martial warrior's age could no longer be measured by ordinary standards. As long as they looked young, that was enough.
"Eh, Sang Qingshan, your injuries actually healed!" Seeing Sang Qingshan come over alive and kicking, all seven revealed looks of surprise.
They had witnessed Sang Qingshan's clash with Zhong Yuetian firsthand. They knew perfectly well what Zhong Yuetian had intended and how serious Sang Qingshan's injuries were. Without a month or two of recuperation, how could he possibly have recovered?
Yet facts spoke louder than words. If that rosy, vigorous look of his meant he was ill, then everyone in the world must be ill!
"Of course I'm healed. It wasn't such a serious injury!" Sang Qingshan said casually.
Young people valued face above all else.
The seven whispered among themselves. Naturally, Sang Qingshan's offhand remark could not put their minds at ease. But it was clear he would not reveal the truth, so no matter how curious they were, they could only claw at their hearts in frustration.
"Brother Sang, who is this?" A beautiful girl in red looked at Zhou Heng, clear interest showing in her eyes.
Although Zhou Heng had restrained his aura and suppressed his cultivation again and again until he appeared to be merely in