The night was deep, yet the White Tiger Hall of the Dao Camp was still brightly lit.
Zhang Yuan patiently listened to Feng Hui's account, then leisurely took a sip of tea and said calmly, "It's already late, Vice General Feng, you should rest early."
"Yes."
Feng Hui stood up nervously, bowed, and then exited the White Tiger Hall.
As this Tier Five Martial Artist walked out the door, he found that his inner garment was drenched in sweat.
He couldn't help but glance back, his fear indescribable.
Although Zhang Yuan hadn't demonstrated any formidable techniques, throughout their interaction, Feng Hui realized he couldn't see through this new Dao General at all, and recognized that his previous judgement was gravely mistaken.
Thinking of this, Feng Hui felt a sense of bitterness.
The days ahead likely wouldn't be easy for him.
Meanwhile, Zhang Yuan in the White Tiger Hall was unaware of the pressure he had placed on his subordinate.
