"How are things?" Wang Xinglong asked, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. His face was haggard as he sat in his chair.
The death of Wang Hao had hit him hard, making him look as if he had aged several decades.
Xu He's eyes were dark, flashing with a cold light. "Through our secret manipulations," he said, "seventy percent of the Elite Disciples have shown intense dissatisfaction with Mo Qi. Many believe that if they can defeat him, they can take his place as a Core Disciple."
"Although the cultivation of these seventy percent isn't very high, their strength is in their numbers. And according to our spies, a portion of them have already gone to cause trouble for Mo Qi."
"And the result?" Wang Xinglong asked with a frown.
Xu He quickly replied, "Aside from the first batch of disciples, who were crippled and thrown down the mountain, none of the others who went in ever came back out."
Wang Xinglong's expression flickered. "You're saying a batch of disciples was crippled?"
