Dou Zhao had always been direct. Saying he was tired of sitting and was going out for a stroll, he got up and left, too lazy even to ask the chief judge for leave, whether it was true or not.
Under such circumstances, when he ran into Huang Sheli at Moon-cherishing Garden in Sheng Kingdom—where she had gone out "to discuss the subsequent commercial development of the Yellow River tournament"—they both pretended not to see each other.
He had crossed countless miles and struck with his blade, of course not to watch the excitement like Zhongli Yan. Rather, he had keenly sensed that Zhongshan Weisun's actions had been launched in response to Chen Suan's death—
Though he sat atop a three-thousand-year-old aristocratic house of the Great Chu empire, in his heart he still hoped the Yellow River tournament would proceed smoothly. He had meant to casually wipe away the accident and clear this pool of muddy water a little.
Yet one slash had cut down nearly half the peach grove, and the skies had not cleared... The water had only grown murkier.
"That's... the direction of Mount Sumeru. What are you staring over there for?" Zhongli Yan waved a hand before him. "Come to your senses?"
Dou Zhao rose with his blade in hand and casually sent a flying kick his way, the whole sequence flowing like drifting clouds and running water. "I knew this had nothing to do with you. Talking about how you were the key to this round, how someone would definitely come to ambush you... what a waste of my time!"
A flash of golden light, and he was gone.
"Don't run if you've got the guts!" Zhongli Yan rolled several times across the ground from the kick, then climbed up completely unharmed. Raising a hand