"He... who is he?"
The Golden-Winged Little Roc King turned red in the face, trembling for a long time before finally squeezing out a sentence.
The man in the golden robe shouted, "He is the heir of the Lineage of the Evil Monarch, three or four generations above you, you should call him Little Ancestor!"
Fang Xing heard this and burst into laughter, politely saying, "No need, no need, calling me Young Master is fine..."
"I... I..."
The Golden-Winged Little Roc King was utterly speechless. He dumbfoundedly looked up at Fang Xing, who stood with his arms crossed and the look of a grandfather evaluating his grandson. Then, he glanced at the enraged Third Ancestor, and felt something seemed to be blocking his chest, his head was buzzing loudly, unable to utter a word. Suddenly, he felt the world spinning and fainted on the spot.
"Alas... such a poor ability to handle blows... he really needs some proper teaching!"
