Zhao Hao crashed into the mural for the fifth time.
The entire Zhao Palace had collapsed, but the mural stood firm.
"No wonder you're the child of Saint Zhao. Whether it's martial arts will, true Qi, body, form, mind, or anything else, it's perfect. Martial Saint, truly a Martial Saint."
Zhou Leng said, looking at Zhao Hao with a hint of sarcastic chill in his eyes.
Suddenly, a grand depiction of a fist's momentum appeared behind him.
The air condensed into a huge red tower.
On top of the tower, in front of a microphone, stood a group of elders.
The elder in the center, though his face was blurry, Zhao Hao recognized at a glance.
His father was watching him.
"You're just a grandmaster, how could you comprehend the New Heaven Eternal Stand!" Zhao Hao's tone suddenly grew sharp.
"Of course, because I am the 'Six Volumes of the Eastern Monarch,' we are the personal disciples of Saint Zhao."
