On the other side.
At Bishui Pond, Ye Shanhe hung up the phone with a sinister tone and glanced at Iron Fist Ancestor, saying:
"How's the preparation going?"
Iron Fist Ancestor, nearing sixty, wore a white training outfit, with intense eyes and strong arms.
Yet, in front of Ye Shanhe, he seemed like a grandson, respectfully and confidently saying,
"Rest assured, Master Shan. If I don't smash the head of that trash Chen Xiaobei today, I will come to you for punishment!"
Zhao Qingshan also smiled faintly: "Old Ancestor's strength is already beyond Chen Xiaobei, and to ensure absolute success, with my training, he's progressed rapidly! Handling someone like Chen Xiaobei will be a breeze."
He was starting to claim credit already, knowing that once Iron Fist Ancestor won, his contribution would be significant.
Ye Shanhe nodded slightly, his gaze cold: "That kid is slippery. Strike with full force and don't be careless!"
"Yes!"
Iron Fist Ancestor replied solemnly.
