Ji Mengzhan looked to where the voice came, and he became respectful all of a sudden. He said, "What is your thought, Brother Zhao?"
The man he called Brother Zhao was wearing black with average height. He was slim, and had a cold face and thick eyebrows. He stayed alone, seemed unfit to others.
It seemed he was always solitary even when he was among ten thousand men.
His eyes were like dead water. He was full of boredom and desolation.
He heard Ji Mengzhan, and he didn’t even try to cover the sneer in his heart. He said, "That is well analyzed. Well done."
The man with long beard was annoyed. He blandly spoke, "Brother Zhao, you think I wrong? I wonder what your good view can bring us!"
Brother Zhao indifferently looked at him. His eyes didn’t seem to have focal point, like he was looking at nothing. He completely ignored the man and blandly said, "Qin Wu will die for sure! Within no more than one strike!"
