In a villa, a young man stood before a middle-aged man, the atmosphere somewhat heavy.
"Lord Ming Feng has been killed by a youth; he barely put up any effective resistance," said the youth standing before the middle-aged man, his expression still faintly shocked.
He had never imagined that Lord Ming Feng, who he considered nearly invincible, could be so easily slain.
Thinking back on it now, he felt as if he were dreaming.
"Impossible," Demon Dragon couldn't help but stand up. If Ming Feng had been killed, he could believe it; that arrogant fellow was far too self-important, often careless. If his adversary had even a modicum of strength, slaying Ming Feng was certainly feasible.
But to say Ming Feng hadn't managed to resist at all was simply inconceivable.
"Are you lying to me?" A stunning brilliance erupted in Demon Dragon's eyes.
