When the two gathered all the aristocratic young masters together and then announced their decision, the scene was filled with cheers.
Some even shouted with a quiver in their voice, "Kill him, mutilate him by a thousand cuts, to avenge our dead brothers!"
"Kill him, no, not just him, but his entire family too. Only by annihilating his family can the hatred in my heart be quelled!"
All sorts of roars echoed throughout the valley, turning it into a cacophony of ghostly howls and wolfish wails. Zheng Ming's name had driven most of them mad.
Brothers had died, comrades had died, and even they themselves had struggled on the brink of death. That elusive fellow, like a demon, continued to torment their souls.
These people, if not for not wanting to be seen as cowards, if not for the last vestige of pride, would have probably sought aid from their respective families long ago.
Now, having Sikong Longxiang, their leader, utter the plea for help, provided them with the greatest relief.
