Over at the hill, two parties were preparing for battle. There were six of them in total, three from the Thousand Leaves Pavilion, and another three from the Corpse Pavilion. Byron was leading the Thousand Leaves Pavilion, he remembered that Byron was a decent disciple of Thousand Leaved Pavilion, his ranking in the clan was pretty high.
Jackie’s only impression of Zamian was from their previous quarrel. From what he knew, he was just a lickspittle, always lingering around masked man, kissing and wiping his a*s.
You would probably need to have a decent amount of power in order to be the masked man’s bootlicker. The disciples of Corpse Pavilion who were under the reign of the masked man at the time were pretty respectful toward Zamian. Even though Zamian was not one of the chosen disciples, his position within the internal disciple was still reasonably high.
Jackie thought to himself and turned his head toward Hayden, “Do you guys know Zamian Ness?”
Upon hearing that, the three men paused in sync. Hayden looked at Jackie with a knowing eye, “Can’t believe junior Jackie knows of Zamian too.”
Jackie nodded, “As I mentioned earlier, both the Corpse Pavilion and I have grudges against each other. I know some of them who were of higher ranks. You know what they said about knowing yourself and your enemy.”
That was just an excuse given by Jackie. Whether or not Hayden believed him was not of importance. His only objective was finding out the identity of Zamian Ness.
Hayden chuckled lightly, his eyes glued onto Jackie.” Zamian is one of the internal disciples of Corpse Pavilion. I heard he ranked first amongst the internal disciples, he had some impressive skills as well.”
Jackie frowned upon hearing that. It was within his expectation, he thought Zamian was at the very least a chosen disciple, but he apparently had not reached the standards of a chosen disciple yet-he was just a mere internal disciple.
No wonder their conflicts were mostly just harmless quarrels. If one party were to overpower another, it would have been an actual battle instead of arguments.
Fury thrummed through Byron’s veins as if he was going to tear Zamian. “Despicable rat, you exceeded my expectations of you. I knew you’re a piece of sh* t, but I didn’t know you’d stood as low as a maggot!”
Zamian snickered nonchalantly, he was completely unaffected by Byron’s words. It was as if nothing Byron said would ever have an effect on him.
Byron was huffed and puffed, his whole being, shook in raw anger. “There’s no way I’m giving you the corpse flower!”
Zamian’s brows furrowed, his eyes were ablaze with flames. “Are you saying you want to duke it out?”
Byron hummed coldly, “If you say so. We’ll settle everything at once!”
The reason he said that was because he remembered—if it was not for the sudden shift of space, the five men would have died under the men that the masked man led.
Zamian chuckled nonchalantly, “As I said, this corpse flower is mine! If you wish to die under me, I’ll grant it. Don’t forget, my men are on a winning strike, you three on the other hand- either injured physically or drained of true energy. You’ll never beat us!”
Byron bit the inside of his cheeks in anger, his face paled. Zamian was not wrong, the three of them were spent after the previous battle.
They were indeed no match for him, but they refused to give up on the corpse flower they attained with their sweat and blood. It was humiliating, to say the least.