At that time, Yuchi Jie had somewhat anticipated it, but still had not expected it to be such a grand endeavor.
There were more than tens of thousands of gang members occupying a stronghold on a precipitous cliff. At a glance, beneath the peace, danger seemed to lurk everywhere. Although there were no martial artists who could compare to Qing Taoqi after the battle with a grandmaster, their presence was far from simple, exuding an aura of ironclad discipline and bloodthirstiness.
Another who came to meet them was a somewhat dull-looking young man, dressed in gray hemp clothing, whose black hair tips were oddly tinged red. He quickly walked up when he was still more than ten paces away, smiling happily, yet he came to a halt about four or five steps before Wang Anfeng, his face clouded with embarrassment.
"Brother Wang..."
