From his own personal perspective, Xiang Yang had little fondness for Little Lord or the royal descendants he had recommended. Still, the affairs of the imperial family were not theirs to criticize, so they smoothly steered away from the subject and turned instead to matters of martial arts.
The four of them spoke one after another, and the atmosphere grew ever more harmonious. Each of them gained quite a bit.
Qi Hanjang and the other two also began to grasp the strength of Xiang Yang's martial path. It was a kind of power steeped in the weight and vicissitudes of history, rich with deep foundations—not something visible to the naked eye, yet something one could absolutely feel.
However, before they had talked merrily for long, another unforeseen surprise appeared, leaving the others present greatly astonished.
She was an exceedingly beautiful woman, with bright eyes and pearly teeth, a graceful face and delicate brows, skin like congealed cream, and a snow-white neck as slender and elegant as a swan's. Her figure was graceful as well; only, she was somewhat short, making her look almost like an immature young girl.
Yet unlike her delicate and lovely appearance, her expression was icy, and cold light flickered in her eyes from time to time. She gave off an air that warned strangers to stay away, as though she were difficult to approach. In other words, she was an ice-cold beauty, and a particularly forceful one at that.
Xiang Yang and the others did not dare underestimate her in the slightest, for the Purple Robe Chief Constable uniform she wore was exactly the same as Xiang Yang's.
A powerful Purple Robe Chief Constable was not unusual, but one who was a woman was far rarer. Looking across the entire realm, there was only one: the