The male cultivator asked with a smile. A three-foot-long Flying Sword, the color of blood, hovered before him, its chilling killing intent held in check.
"Wang Chang'an,"
Ling Changqing said slowly, "So many of you are posted here. What could be your purpose, Fellow Daoist?"
As he spoke, Gong Ling sensed, just as expected, that various subtle, probing Divine Techniques were scanning him. Their intentions were obvious.
Feng Zhenglong chuckled. "Fellow Daoist Wang, you must also be here for the opportunity at the main peak's summit, correct? But don't worry, we're just tracking down a certain important person."
He waved his hand lightly, signaling his men to clear a path.
The Female Cultivator beside him, however, chimed in with another question. "Since you're from the Deep Sea Dragon Race, do you happen to know a Ling Changqing?"
"He's one of the Patriarch's people. Of course, someone on the fringe like me wouldn't know him."
