At the school entrance.
Shang Er still had his hands tucked in his pockets, humming a little tune, his face exuding an indescribable air of triumph. The images of the recent battle were still resonating in his mind.
Zhu Lang will always be Zhu Lang. So what if you're a city's Martial Dao Association? I slaughtered you all effortlessly. Not a single one was a match for me.
Although Shang Er knew the core powerhouses of the Human Race weren't there and that they had regrettably missed each other, he still felt extremely satisfied.
Earth has billions of Zhu Lang. My clan is the second of the Upper Crescent, so we should at least get one-tenth!
Just the thought of it made Shang Er's scalp tingle.
