Wu Chen completely calmed down.
While voicing his doubts, his eyes, as cold as razor blades, scrutinized the young man before him, who was several years his junior. The young man was as impassive as an ancient well, his depths impossible to fathom.
What he couldn't understand was how such an unremarkable-looking fellow could command such profound respect from Zhao Dejiang, a Martial Guard. Zhao Dejiang had even berated him for it.
Not even thirty, yet Zhao Dejiang is this deferential? If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it, no matter who told him.
Just the thought of it left a bitter taste in Wu Chen's mouth. As a peer in the Martial Department, he held the high rank of a Sixth Grade Martial General and was known as the peerless King of Martial Kings. Hadn't he always been the one to create miracles and stir up waves, making everyone flock to him as if he were a deity?
