“Bitches. If Lord Fifth hadn’t just recently awoken from slumber, then he would be much more powerful. I could have screwed the entire city! Then they would know how badass Lord Fifth is! As for you, kid, feel free to express your thanks by offering me some worship. Come, come. Say it with me: Have faith….”
Meng Hao turned, ignoring the parrot and instead looking once again out the window, his eyes shining with vigilance. He had long since pulled out the good luck charm to see if he could use it.
“It’s too bad I haven’t been able to harness the power of the roc. If I had, then even a Nascent Soul Cultivator wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.” He continued to look out in the direction of the Dongluo Clan.
As time passed, however, it seemed that the commotion had died down. No one came to cause trouble, and the Dongluo Clan didn’t seem to be furious. Everything was smoothing over.
This, however, made Meng Hao even more nervous, although what he was worried about wasn’t the Dongluo Clan, but whatever momentous event had led to the current circumstances.
If something major hadn’t happened, the Dongluo Clan definitely wouldn’t be acting like this.
Three days later, Meng Hao finally understood everything. One of the cities of the United Nine had been taken over after its Spirit Severing Patriarch perished. The Western Desert was controlling the Black Lands Palace; it seemed their goal was to devour all of the Black Lands.
This news swept over the Black Lands like storm winds over the following days. Soon, everyone knew about it….
When the day of the auction arrived, Meng Hao left his room. A cold wind blew outside, and the sky above was filled with dark clouds. It seemed a thunderstorm was approaching.
“The Black Lands are heading towards an upheaval,” said Meng Hao to himself. He looked around to see Cultivators all around him hurrying in the direction of the auction.
The parrot was perched on Meng Hao’s shoulder, looking around proudly as if it knew that one day it would take care of this place once and for all.