Mr. Han said nothing.
Putting on airs like some master.
It was obvious that he was in a terrible mood.
Still, putting himself in his shoes, Ji Jue could understand how Han Hui felt.
In one hour, he had gone from an East City tycoon to drowning in debt. His career had collapsed, his ambitions had been shattered, his Heavenly Mandate had been put on hold... Then he had to watch helplessly as everyone else crawled out of the pit one by one, while he alone had to stay at the bottom—especially when he was the one specifically left behind to prop everyone else up! The fact that he could still stand up and take a few steps at a time like this already made him East City's king of pressure resistance!
Everything that had happened today was only the beginning. Everyone knew the storm was coming. Many people would die, and many would fall from the clouds. Yet others would survive, and go on surviving.
Painfully.
Like Han Hui.
East City people had always valued keeping up appearances. At this moment, even though they had already made a Sacred Cut from Han Hui and intended to leave him holding the bag, they would not truly let him fall all the way to the bottom.
He was still useful.
Especially a Han Hui who had fallen to rock bottom.
"Lord Han, why have you come so late?"
Ji Jue, sprawled across the sofa, turned around and looked behind him with a soft smile. "And why have you not said a word?"
A glass bottle sat by his feet. Inside it, a speck of dust flickered, brightening and dimming faintly.
This was his greatest gain from this trip—a material of boundless use even within the Deepdark Embers... the Celestial Foundation that