The six Warriors on the ground had just subdued the wind lion when, less than half a minute later, the flying boat in the sky slowly descended onto a lush patch of grass over two hundred meters away from the open area.
The flying boat's hatch opened, and a young man in his twenties stepped down. He was fairly handsome, though his face bore the faint bluish pallor of excessive indulgence in wine and women, and there was a slight float to his steps.
The young man was merely an eighth-level Warrior, yet he wore an expensive python-silkworm robe. Though the sun overhead was blazing fiercely, he still held a folding fan, carrying himself with an air of lofty self-regard and elegant refinement.
An elderly man dressed in a steward's attire walked quietly behind the young man.
Seeing the young man disembark, the six Warriors who had captured the wind lion all bowed to him and the old man behind him.
The foppish young master seemed not to notice their salute at all. He merely lifted his folding fan slightly in acknowledgment, then hurried over to the wind lion still trapped in the net and began inspecting it.
"Ah, you didn't kill this wind lion, did you...?"
"Reporting to Young Master Deng, this wind lion has only been temporarily paralyzed and stunned by drugs. It will awaken after one day. Once it wakes, it will be somewhat lacking in energy, but after three days, so long as it can eat and drink and is carefully tended, it will recover. As for the wound on its leg, applying a little medicine to clean and treat it will also allow it to heal easily..." one of the six replied.
The young man was not entirely a useless dandy. Upon hearing this, he