Fang Lin stood on the array platform, looking at his opponent standing a hundred steps away.
"Master Fang, I didn't expect to encounter you," the man began, his tone carrying hints of good fortune and joy.
Fang Lin was speechless. Did he look that weak? Why are you looking like you've caught a soft persimmon?
Fang Lin's opponent, a man who appeared to be in his thirties, had a gaunt face and a pair of sharp eyes. Being stared at by him was like being watched by a wolf.
The man's attire was distinctly that of someone from Yuan Country.
"Master Fang, remember my name. I'll be merciful so that you won't lose too shamefully," the man from Yuan Country said with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.
Fang Lin scratched his head: "What's your name again?"
Upon hearing this, the man's expression froze. Fang Lin didn't even remember his name—was this contempt or simply disregard?
"My name is Nie Kun!" the man said with an ugly expression.
