"What is it? Tomato pot? Seasoning pack?" The golden armors had no idea what Zhang Menglong was talking about, let alone how it related to attacking them.
But they understood one thing: for whatever reason, this damned trialist seemed determined to oppose them.
"Trialist, do you intend to rebel against us together with that traitor?" asked the golden-armored man whom Zhang Menglong had wounded. Covering his stomach, he stood up—although heavily injured, he was not yet dead.
"Traitor or not, I don't care. Either give me back my tomato pot, or apologize and compensate me!" Zhang Menglong declared righteously.
"Why waste words with a trialist? He's an ant, just kill him!"
"This trialist is not ordinary!" the injured golden-armored man cautioned. "Everyone, be careful!"
"Who are you?" The black-haired youth sensed that this trialist seemed to be here to help him, but he couldn't be sure since Zhang Menglong had no obvious motive to assist him.
