As he entered, the surrounding Cultivators craned their necks to watch. Middle-aged Li stood there arrogantly. He pressed his finger down onto the space between his eyebrows. Immediately, his Cultivation base sank down from the late Foundation Establishment stage to the mid Foundation Establishment stage, as if he had six Dao Pillars.
“Li is not the sort of person who would bully you,” he said, sticking his jaw out, “so I’ll only use the power of the mid Foundation Establishment stage. Under no circumstances will I use the power of late Foundation Establishment.”
“Actually, there’s no need for that,” murmured Meng Hao. He stood there in the Battle Arena, his expression very different than before. There was nothing fake about his expression now. He smiled, and within the smile was happiness, as well as a bit of shyness.
The people here weren’t familiar with this shyness. But the people from the Violet Fate Sect who had traded with him years before in the State of Zhao would know it well. It would cause their scalps to grow numb if they saw it. They would think themselves to be in some kind of nightmare, and would most likely fly into a violent rage.
“In a bit, you’ll have to eat your words….” said Meng Hao shyly. He looked just like the young scholar that had stood there on Mount Daqing years ago. He seemed a little embarrassed as he took a step forward.