"Should I call you Wang Xiaoming? Or... Wang Mang?" Ouyang asked with a grin, looking at the childhood tagalong before him.
What should have been a warm greeting between old friends struck Wang Xiaoming's ears like a thunderclap, blasting him into a stupor on the spot.
The Ouyang before him gradually merged with the little Tyrant from his childhood in Maple Leaf City.
He could kill at four, and by five, he had brought all the beggars in the city's southern district under his control with an iron fist.
He had clearly been only a child, yet he was more ruthless than any adult Wang Xiaoming had ever met.
Even now, Wang Xiaoming could not have tied a knife to his hand with strips of cloth and lunged at adults who possessed true qi to kill them without a shred of true qi himself!
The memory of witnessing Ouyang kill during his childhood surfaced in his mind like a nightmare.
Although Ouyang's word was law, he had treated the homeless orphans extremely well, so Wang Xiaoming had also been a little admirer of his.
He had originally thought that, with Ouyang taken as an Immortal's disciple, they might never meet again in this lifetime. When they had met again in Maple Leaf City a few years ago, he had been half delighted and half terrified.
After all, that childhood shadow had affected Wang Xiaoming so deeply that even now, the sight of Ouyang made his legs tremble involuntarily.
Ouyang looked at Wang Xiaoming in puzzlement. I treated this fellow pretty well when we were little, didn't I?
Why does this kid look as though he's seen a ghost every time he sees me?
"Boss! The Young Master made me do it all! I never even wanted to be emperor!" Wang