"Heh, you finally came."
The private room's main door was suddenly kicked open from the outside. A burly black-skinned man in his early twenties, dressed in a dark-colored Martial Robe, strode in with wind under his feet. His eyes swept back and forth over Su Mu inside the room.
"You're that guy surnamed Zhang?"
Their gazes met. Su Mu's eyes were calm yet held a hint of doubt, while the black man made no effort to hide his anger and disdain.
"And who might you be? Is this how your Wanlin Commerce Association treats its guests?"
Su Mu put down the teacup in his hand and did not answer, but instead responded with a question.
"I am Dong Ming. That Red Evil Mountain quota of yours was taken from my hands. You tell me, should I or should I not come looking for you today?" The black man's tone was unfriendly.
"Quotas belong to the strong. I won't waste words with the likes of you. You and I are both Martial Artists—let's draw a line today."
