"Brother Zhang, I am terribly sorry," Qiao Wei said as soon as the disciples who guarded the temple entrance disappeared within the thick mist that engulfed the peak of Mount Wu.
"We keep inconveniencing you again and again."
"It's no big deal," Zhang Fengxi quipped.
When he was only twenty-one years old, he came second in the competition to win the Dragon Throne.
Within these past six years, he diligently worked on honing both his martial arts to perfection and improving his cultivation level to the late stage of Soul Formation.
Zhang Fengxi did not want to brag, but which human being could hold a candle to his flame?
Qiao Wei smiled.
"I do not doubt Brother Zhang's abilities. I just hope that you won't think poorly of us. We will definitely repay you for all the kindness you bestow upon us."
Zhang Fengxi grinned at Qiao Wei.
