"Tch, you? Shen Haoran? If you're Shen Haoran, then I'm Ouyang Feng! Don't try to act tough in front of me—anyone can do that. I'll give you one chance. Apologize to us, then get out of this restaurant, and we'll let you live. Otherwise, you're going to be in for a world of hurt!" the weasel-faced Martial Artist said arrogantly.
Hearing the weasel-faced Martial Artist's words, the black-robed man gently set his wine cup on the table. He slowly turned, the corner of his mouth, visible from beneath his hood, curling upward into a wicked smile.
"You say you're Ouyang Feng. In that case, are you aware that the feud between me and Ouyang Feng is one that can only end when one of us is dead?" the black-robed man said lightly, his voice filled with a chilling, murderous intent.
