Hearing Forrest Reid's words, Colin Yorke couldn't help feeling a tad smug.
"Hmph! Even at the same 'Martial Emperor Realm', there are levels of strength."
Just then, a disdainful snort came through, stiffening the smug smile that had just appeared on Colin Yorke's face.
His gaze then fell on the bald, middle-aged man wearing tiger skin behind Forrest Reid.
It was he who had uttered the previous statement.
The bald man stood there, his eyes fixated on Wyatt Barnes, filled with disdain and provocation.
"Forrest, it seems Little Tiger is quite confident in his own strength."
Colin Yorke, unfazed, turned to Forrest Reid with a smile.
"Little Tiger?"
Hearing Colin Yorke call the bald man "Little Tiger," the corners of Wyatt Barnes's mouth twitched, and he completely ignored the disdainful and challenging gaze of the bald man as he sized him up.
The bald man was tall and sturdy, standing at over two meters, and rough around the edges.
