Not a Plague

Wei Luo was in no hurry to enter the restaurant. The argument inside was meaningless; the only thing that could truly decide the outcome was whose strength was hard enough.

He strolled over to the coffins. Just as he was about to speak, a Wu Family guard stepped across to block him.

"Who are you? Don't you know the Wu Family is handling business here? Get lost!"

Wei Luo raised a brow. It was perfectly normal for these family guards to bark at ordinary people. A beating would set them straight.

But Wei Luo did not need to act. Someone was faster than him.

A middle-aged man with slender arms and delicate, feminine features hurried forward and gave the guard a resounding slap.

Slap!

The guard spun through the air and crashed to the ground, more than half the teeth in his mouth flying out.

"Are you blind, you bastard? You dare curse at anyone? Are you tired of living?"

After cursing, the feminine-looking middle-aged man put on a smile, faced Wei Luo, and cupped his hands in greeting.

"Brother Wei Luo, don't lower yourself to the level of such a rude fellow."

The surrounding guards and martial artists all changed expressions slightly upon hearing Wei Luo's name, their faces immediately turning respectful.

Most of them had never seen Wei Luo before, but news of his fight against the Pure Fragrance Cult and his consecutive killings of Three Refinements martial artists had long spread throughout the city.

Wei Luo looked him over and recalled seeing this man when Wang Xiang had gathered the various factions.

He seemed to be the master of a small martial arts school, with strength at the level of an ordinary Three Refinements martial artist.

It appeared that his school was also among those that had