Facing the interrogation of the Martial Ancestor, the Zhenyang Taoist stroked his beard and squinted his eyes at them, saying, "Indeed, Lin Zhenghui may represent our Taoist Sect in the competition."
"Come on, don't blame us if you get crippled," the lackeys of the Martial Ancestor couldn't contain themselves anymore.
How dare such a young brat insult the Martial Ancestor? If they didn't smash his mouth to pieces, how could they establish authority today in front of these Taoist sects and clans?
"Zhengyang Taoist, don't think that just because a lad nourished with the Primordial Yin Force can contend with our Martial Ancestor. You will have to take responsibility for your words," one of the Martial Ancestor's elders knew Lin Zhenghui like the back of his hand.
Lin Zhenghui was just an ordinary peasant, the Lin Family's long-lost young master missing for 23 years. Even if a woman from the Taoist Sect had relations with him, he couldn't have become much stronger.
