Zhou Tong caught up with him.
Seeing the smug look on Zhou Tong's face, Yang Zhen felt for the first time that someone could smile so contemptibly. If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't beat the old coot before him, Yang Zhen would have slapped him long ago.
"Keep away from me!" Yang Zhen said, waving his hand in disgust.
How could someone about to breakthrough to the Half-step Emperor Realm be so shameless and brazen?
What happened to the air of a noble sage?
Even without the demeanor of a sage, at the very least, shouldn't he resemble a venerable practitioner?
Serious and not given to frivolous laughter, moving like the wind, sitting as still as an ancient bell—that was the comportment a true cultivator should possess.
Just look at the old coot before him, unimpressive and unkempt, with a smile plastered across his face, looking like a weasel paying New Year's respects to a chicken. It made Yang Zhen feel a bit of dread.
