Arriving outside an abandoned village, Zheng Ming sensed that there were people ahead, not just one person, but thirteen, thirteen Martial Artists with a Cultivation Level above the Ninth Grade.
Five Ninth Grade, six Eighth Rank, two Seventh Grade.
In an instant, Zheng Ming had a preliminary estimation of these people's strengths. He wasn't interested in these ordinary warriors and was about to walk around them when he heard someone laugh and say, "Friend, as we are all facing difficulties in this world, since we have met, why not come and have a drink? It would not be in vain that this damned heaven has allowed us to meet."
The speaker was a robust young man standing on a tree branch, with a Giant Sabre strapped to his back. Although the young man's face was not particularly handsome, there was a simplicity to it that engendered immediate goodwill.