Faced with Lu Bei's nearly humiliating question, Meng Buwei's face turned ashen. He made no response but was about to draw the sword bestowed by Mei Wangsu.
He held back, it wasn't time to reveal his trump card yet.
Bang!
Debris flew as Wen Bubei, with a swollen face, clambered up from the ruins. He floated over to Meng Buwei's side, clicking his tongue in amazement, admiring Lu Bei's astonishing speed.
"Mr. Wen, we should not be praising the enemy. He just killed Mr. Chan and Miss. Pang!" Meng Buwei gritted his teeth, his face stern.
"For us sword cultivators, our lifetime pursuit is nothing more than the Sword Tao. If our senior brothers and sisters can die under the Sword Tao they pursued throughout their lives, they would be very happy," Wen Bubei calmly nodded, asserting they died without regrets.
Meng Buwei was fuming, glaring at his junior, his nostrils flaring and eyes bulging like copper bells.
"I was just joking, don't take it seriously."
