Upon hearing that name, Fan Qi, who had kept his eyes closed in concentration on the arena, suddenly opened them, seemingly somewhat surprised.
Just then, an exceptionally burly man leaped onto the arena from below with a boom.
"Fan Qi, you old scoundrel! Do you still remember my great-grandfather, Fan Sheng?"
Fan Zhong roared the moment he stepped onto the arena.
"How has your great-grandfather been lately?"
Fan Qi turned to look at Fan Zhong.
"My great-grandfather died six years ago. Before he died, he said only one thing to me. Want to know what it was?"
Fan Zhong looked at Fan Qi with a cold sneer.
"What was it?"
Fan Qi asked coldly.
"Descendants of the Fan Household, one day, bring Fan Qi's head to my grave. Never forget, generation after generation!"
Fan Zhong snorted coldly.
Hearing this, Fan Qi gave a cold laugh.
His laughter was as icy as the wind blowing from the Northern Border.
"No wonder members of the Fan Household have kept coming here to seek their deaths all these years."
As Fan Qi spoke, he removed his mask and said,
"Since someone from the Fan Household has come, I won't wear a mask today."
The face beneath the mask was unremarkable, but apart from a few wrinkles and a head of graying hair, it showed surprisingly few signs of age.
"Today, I'll send you to reunite with your great-grandfather."
As Fan Qi spoke, he settled into a fist stance, then fixed Fan Zhong with an icy, vicious stare.
"Who lives and who dies has yet to be decided!"
Fan Zhong snorted coldly.
Gang qi formed from internal force abruptly surged around him. Then he stepped forward and hurled a punch at Fan Qi.
But Fan Qi seemed to have seen through Fan Zhong's punches.