In the Peng clan manor, the father and son, Peng Huang and Peng Zheng, sat calmly around an ancient wood table.
At the head of the table, an old man in his nineties with features similar to Peng Huang leisurely taking a sip of tea. His aura was plain, but one could feel a sense of majesty within his body just by looking at him. He was Peng Fuyin, the ancestor of the Peng Clan.
Peng Fuyin put the teacup down and squinted his eyes at the father and son duo. "How's the preparation?"
Peng Huang hurriedly responded. "We're ready to make a move at any time, Ancestor. However, Han Bingling's recent movements are quite unpredictable. We have no idea what tricks she hides in her sleeves."
"She's just a little girl. No need to worry about her much. What you have to pay attention to is That Old Immortal Tian. He's at the end of his rope now. I'm not surprised if he goes all out in the upcoming day." Peng Fuyin said calmly.
