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Nearly a thousand meters above the battlefield, two figures hovered quietly.
They maintained an air of detachment from the battlefield below, where flesh and blood flew and soul light exploded throughout the Bao Residence and the surrounding mountain forests.
On the left stood Zuo Tinggang, his swordlike brows drawn so tightly over his square face that three deep furrows formed between them.
His sharp gaze swept across the fighting, which covered an irregular stretch of land ten li across outside the city. "Who would have thought this little manor would draw in so many big fish today?"
The man beside him had black hair untouched by the frost of age, tied back casually. He looked barely fifty, wore plain cloth garments, and had the gentle manner of an old neighbor.
Only the keen light that occasionally flashed through his eyes called to mind his connection to the former Chief Steward of Soul Fighting, Chen Weining-this was his brother, Chen Weizhe.
At those words, Chen Weizhe sucked his teeth, obvious amusement spreading across his kindly face. "Listen, Old Zuo, don't get too fierce up here. Careful those big fish don't tear your net to shreds instead of getting caught. Look at the commotion down there. Something's not right."
Prompted by him, Zuo Tinggang continued looking down, his gaze darkening. "A few extra elites from the Black Nether Guard would be understandable. But four Titled Douluo, plus more than a dozen fighters at the Soul Douluo level, all popping up at once and cramming themselves into this place... that really is unusual."
"No shit!" A faint smile curled at the corners of Chen Weizhe's mouth. "Even a major stronghold of the Crimson Legion would