Xu Xiaoshou hid in a corner of the banquet, stuffing his face while sizing up the many powerful figures present.
"Master, peak Master, Throne... another Throne!"
"Hiss, this is kind of terrifying, these old men!"
Xu Xiaoshou had no interest whatsoever in those so-called young talents on the eastern side.
His first objective was to figure out the strongest combatants here, then find Zhang Taiying and keep a dead watch on him.
The moon was full tonight—perfect for stabbing a hedgehog!
As his gaze swept back and forth across the banquet in search of his target, a chaotic medley of voices filled his ears.
All of a sudden, one table caught Xu Xiaoshou's attention.
He fixed his eyes on it.
Two middle-aged men held wine cups in their hands. They were immaculately dressed and carried themselves with remarkable bearing.
Yet their words were dripping with mockery.
"Well, if it isn't Great Mister Chao. What, you finally found it in yourself to leave the house?"
The first to speak was a peak Master. Xu Xiaoshou found him familiar, but could not remember whom he resembled.
"Oh? Brother Wen?"
The respondent was a Throne-stage man. With a cold laugh, he said, "I heard the Wen House only recently finished holding a funeral. So, who did you send off? Old Wen Bug? Or Old Wen Snake?"
"Or was it one of the younger generation? A white-haired man sending off a black-haired one?"
"Heh, Chao Nong!" The familiar old man retorted, "Don't just talk about me. Didn't your family also lose an inner court disciple from the Spirit Palace?"
"Same to you. That brat made a fool of himself. Life and death are dictated by fate—I don't take it to heart."
"Hehe, human lives truly are worth less than dirt in the eyes of