Feng Xiaofeng raised his head only then, glaring at Zhou Zishu hatefully.

Zhou Zishu’s face was as placid as still water as he said, “He wanted my life, yet, I didn’t want his.” The he pulled Zhang Chengling to his feet, saying, “Let’s go.”

“Hold it!” This time, it was Huashan Sect Leader Yu Qiufeng. Once he stood, the few major sects that backed Huashan stood up with him; Yu Qiufeng looked at Zhou Zishu with an extremely unfriendly expression, and then clasped his fist haphazardly at him, grinding out between his teeth, “This wanderer, aren’t you belittling everyone here by bringing this child away just like that, right in front of the faces of all the heroes under this sky?”

Zhou Zishu glanced at him, and said coolly, “So, what should I do, according to Sect Leader Yu?”

Yu Qiufeng said, “You can leave if you want, but first, let him explain why people keep hunting him down, whether the Zhang family has anything to do with the Lapis Armour, and in whose hands the Lapis Armour is at present?!”

Zhou Zishu looked at this embittered Huashan Sect Leader with a superficial smile, lowered his head, and asked Zhang Chengling, “Do you know what he’s saying?”

Zhang Chengling tightened his lips, and shook his head.

Zhou Zishu asked, “Do you want to speak about the things he asked you?”

Zhang Chengling extended his arm, and carefully pulled at his robes, wordless. Zhou Zishu nodded, and turned back to Yu Qiufeng to say, “Sect Leader Yu, you have questions, but he too can decline to answer. It’s better if we just bid each other farewell here, and never cross each other’s paths in the future.”

Done speaking, he tugged Zhang Chengling up and made to leave. Behind Yu Qiufeng, the Cangshan Sect Leader Huang Daoren chuckled coldly, “This lad is too arrogant!” And took the lead in causing him difficulty. This Huang Daoren had unassuming features, with a dark face that was very oddly-shaped, yet he loved to carry that folding fan all year round, always lurking behind Yu Qiufeng pretending to be one of culture. Whoever knew what he was thinking.

Yet he didn’t conceal his hand, as he struck at this moment like a giant potato flung towards them.

Zhou Zishu scoffed internally. It was technically correct to say that he was arrogant; anyway, these present only knew how to cluck and titter like mother hens, and he did not respect a single one of them. As Huang Daoren’s first blow arrived, Zhou Zishu did not even let go of Zhang Chengling’s hand. In a flash, the two men had already exchanged innumerable blows, a blur to the crowd, then Huang Daoren gave a low sound of pain, and retreated three steps. Blood burst forth from his mouth as he fell on his ass.

And became a shrivelled potato.