Qin Hao had met many people in his lifetime.
But it was the first time he had seen someone who seemed to have walked out of a painting.
The person wore a black robe and a bamboo hat, obscuring his face, but because of the lotus, flowing water, and small bridge juxtaposed, everything gained significance.
Qin Hao thought for a moment, then seriously said, "The Six Kings of the Zhou Family are each unfathomably mysterious. Among them, the Iron King's information is the most plentiful."
He paused, his gaze burning as he looked at the person across the bridge: "I hear you're skilled with poison?"
The person remained motionless, yet a voice emerged: "Average."
"Very humble." Qin Hao's lips curled with amusement.
Iron King said little more, coldly stating, "That waste has died."
The Fog Celestial King's cultivation technique was sinister, and its danger surpassed even that of Qian Feishun and the Zhao Family Ancestor.
Yet, in Iron King's mouth, it became a waste.
