The people from the sixteen families stood dumbfounded, staring at the human skin rolling in the wind.
When the grandmaster died before, they felt as if it was someone else who died.
But witnessing the death of Huang Wancheng, they found it unbelievable.
A middle-rank grandmaster, Lord of the Great Clan, who normally had patrols pave the way, was admired like the stars surrounding the moon, a frequent name in the news, with endless assets, someone whose stomp would cause tremors across a province.
Yet now, he just died right in front of them.
Saddened by the death, they subtly sensed a growing panic.
They looked at Zhou Leng, almost like most martial artists, with clean, sharp short hair, wearing camouflage clothing, standing straight; just that he was more robust, and his aura was stronger.
They recalled Ma Xingkong from years ago, who was also like this.
