"You've come."
Standing with his hands behind his back, the wind billowed his sleeves. The old man's hair and beard were white, his voice tone indifferent.
"I had to come."
The young man in white stood proud in the chilly wind, his expression cold and stern.
"You shouldn't have come."
The old man's voice carried a hint of murderous intent, about three parts worth.
"Keep acting tough and I'll send you flying!"
Without any preamble, Zhou Li suddenly shouted angrily, "If I didn't come, I'd be fucking dead for sure."
"You're already dead meat now."
Master Li laughed arrogantly, his laugh cruel. He ripped off the Confucian robe he was wearing, revealing sturdy, powerful muscles that seemed especially ferocious in the cold wind. He cracked his knuckles, and the calluses on his hands proved this Master wasn't just some weak scholar who only flexed his writing skills.
"Heh, it's not yet clear who the prey will fall to, you might not necessarily be my match."
