"Joe Di?" Quentin Jia stared at Joe Di in shock. Although Joe Di had disguised himself as a middle-aged man, the moment he spoke, Quentin recognized him.
"That's right." Joe Di casually tossed the vest bag he was holding onto the center of the conference table, then set down the backpack from his shoulder.
Having heard that Quentin Jia was an Elite Martial Artist, Joe Di dared not be careless.
The vest bag rolled across the conference table a few times, revealing Zane Bi's pale, lifeless head.
Though none of those attending the meeting were soft-hearted, seeing Zane Bi's severed head still shocked everyone into retreating several steps. Now, no one remained seated at the table.
"Are you looking for death..." Quentin Jia's fury was like oil poured onto a blazing fire, nearly igniting the whole conference room. He grabbed at his waist, and a flexible sword whipped up a terrifying sound, locking onto Joe Di's position.
Before the sound of the sword splitting the air rang out, Joe Di could already sense a sword aura locking onto him. No matter which way he tried to dodge, that sword aura seemed to follow relentlessly.
Once the sword's piercing sound erupted, that single sword aura split into seven or eight streams. At this point, dodging was impossible—and even breathing grew difficult under the pressure of those sword beams.
Everyone in the conference room witnessed Quentin Jia's attack. Some who had previously wanted to challenge him now fell silent. Faced with such a casual strike, none of them could hope to evade.
Joe Di had no intention of dodging, nor did he plan to use fireballs or wind blades against Quentin Jia. While his fireballs or wind blades might severely injure Quentin in a surprise attack, in a direct confrontation, Joe Di was certain his minor spells would be useless against him.