In a place riddled with danger like this, Shen Hao's perception was always at the highest alert—he hadn't sensed anyone behind him at all until he heard a voice.
This meant the person behind him had a cultivation far above Shen Hao's, and must have only just entered this area. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spoken up only after Shen Hao had spent so long examining the arm guard he'd just obtained.
Calling it "asking" was putting it nicely; to be honest, it was robbery.
Shen Hao turned around and saw a young man who looked about thirty, dressed in a snow-white long robe, handsome features, with a faint smile at his lips but an unmistakable contempt and playfulness in his eyes. The man's right hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The aura was strong, but still nowhere close to Nie Yun's.
