Ten Thousand Swords Against Ten Thousand Arrows

Zhang Zhenbiao blinked slightly, quickly sat up straight, and nodded, "Please, Brother Han, go ahead."

Han Muye had formidable cultivation and battle prowess. He had previously saved Zhang Zhenbiao's life, so as long as the request wasn't excessive, Zhang Zhenbiao would agree to it.

As a swordsman, he naturally had his own principles of gratitude and grudges.

As a guardian of a region, he also had sufficient power.

Han Muye spoke softly, "I hope Brother Zhang won't spread information about my identity, about me."

Zhang Zhenbiao was taken aback for a moment.

Han Muye smiled, "It wouldn't be good for your reputation, Brother Zhang, if news were to spread about an aspiring cultivator who hasn't become an official disciple yet, trying to turn the tide."

Those words made Zhang Zhenbiao blush.

But he knew that Han Muye was telling the truth.