Chapter Two Hundred and Eighteen
Long Xiaoshan also looked outside the private room. At the entrance, a group dressed in martial arts school uniforms walked in, with Wei Zhentian and another man leading them.
Wei Zhentian seemed to have become hunched over, appearing to have aged ten years.
Gone was the aura of a martial artist.
However, the air of a big shot still clung to him.
But compared to the man next to him, even a big shot like Wei Zhentian seemed more like an attendant. The man was built like a javelin, his upper body was exceptionally muscular, especially his arms, which were so powerfully developed they seemed almost deformed.
It was as if two gorilla arms had been grafted onto a human body.
When he walked, naturally, all focus shifted onto him.
This was the aura of a person.
Such an aura, born of genuine personal strength, even made Long Xiaoshan's eyes show a trace of solemnity.
