There was an art to asking that question.
It preserved their imposing air while also probing for information about the other party.
In such circumstances, most people would give their name and background to intimidate their opponents.
If the other party belonged to some major faction in the Black-Corner Region, he would drop to his knees on the spot, worship them like an ancestor, and smooth over this conflict.
But if they did not, or if their faction was based outside the Black-Corner Region, things would be simple.
Kill them outright and feast on the spoils.
Then, even if they belonged to a major faction outside the Black-Corner Region, so what?
Its whip would be too short to reach this far.
Yet Zhou Changqing did not reveal his background as the third chief had expected. Instead, he said coldly, "Trash like you aren't even worthy of making me unsheathe the Overlord Sword."
Before his words had faded, Zhou Changqing's figure began turning transparent.
Afterimage!
The third chief's pupils trembled violently. An overwhelming sense of danger surged through him, and he immediately tried to leap from his horse to dodge!
Unfortunately, before he could move, a pale fist came hurtling toward him, wrapped in a terrifyingly powerful gale!
Bang!
His head exploded. The fragments were swept away by the gale, leaving not a speck on the fist or its owner.
Before the third chief's corpse, now much like Louis XVI's, could fall from his horse,
several more explosive bangs rang out beside him!
"The third-the third chief is d-dead?!"
An uproar erupted!
The sudden spectacle left the nearby Black Bandits rooted to the spot. Only when fragments splattered onto their faces and bodies, wet and hot, did they awaken as if from a dream.
Then pandemonium broke out, terror tearing through