"Brother, he..."
Liu Xingyu's face twitched as he stared at Zhang Fan, leaning in close to Liu Xingtui's ear.
"Don't say a word."
Liu Xingtui's expression was grave, and he barked, "If it weren't for him today, we'd all be dead here."
As he spoke, Liu Xingtui's gaze fell on what remained of Meng Qingtong—a puddle of flesh.
Having awakened his Daoist Divine Techniques, Meng Qingtong was nearly impossible to kill. With just the few of them, if Zhang Fan hadn't acted in time, in the span of one cigarette, no one alive would be left here.
"Good thing you didn't go head-to-head with him that day." Thinking back on it, Liu Xingtui was still terrified—what kind of good outcome ever comes from butting heads with someone like that?
Luckily, Liu Xingyu was at least somewhat worldly. The day he saw Zhang Fan show his hand, he realized there are always mountains beyond mountains, people beyond people. He didn't keep posturing, or he'd have been flattened long ago.
