Despite the perfectly smooth ground, the sedan chair carriers maintained incredibly stable footing. They cut through the crowd at a startling speed before coming to a firm halt in front of Wu Liangchen, the chair not swaying in the slightest the entire time.
The curtain was then lifted, and a man leisurely stepped out.
He was a portly, fair-skinned, middle-aged man. So well-cared-for was he that not a single wrinkle creased his face, and his hair was combed with meticulous precision.
He wore a faint smile, the very picture of a man whose affability brings him wealth. He looked nothing like the Grandmaster Swordsman who had founded a sect; he was more like a merchant.
But that was just the facade an ordinary person would see. In Wu Liangchen's eyes, this middle-aged man was exceptionally dangerous.
Though he just stood there simply, his aura was a seamless whole, enveloping him like a tortoise shell with absolutely no openings.
'So this is a Swordsman of the Grandmaster Realm?'
