บท 388: 227 Saint Fist, Tyrant Fist, Extreme Fist (4000)_2

Some raindrops penetrated through the gaps in the leaves, one after the other, they dullly struck the wooden roof of the cabin. Below, two wooden platform beds were suspended in mid-air. On the left and right, respectively, lay Casio and Feng Liusi. The sound of raindrops striking was all they could hear in their ears.

Feng Liusi crossed his arms over his chest, his slightly worn eyes turned to glance at Casio and said in a deep voice, "You seem to be somewhat lost. If it's no trouble, why not share what's on your mind..."

Casio wrinkled his brows slightly, eventually opening his mouth to speak, "Does Secret Martial Art have a limit? How far does the end of the path of Martial Arts lie? I can't see it…"

"Are you asking about realms?"

"Sort of..."