Whether he was a dragon or a snake remained unclear, but no one had touched him.
Nor had he met the hostility or rejection he had expected.
Atop the tallest building in central TC City—a seventy-one-story luxury resort hotel—the rooftop blazed with light, and a champagne tower refracted crystal-clear gleams.
Soft music played amid unending laughter.
Attendants with slightly dark skin and curly hair moved politely through the crowd carrying food and drinks. With elegant poise, they offered guests whatever they needed, then stepped back at just the right moment, returning to unobtrusive corners.
An ordinary cocktail reception.
In the convivial atmosphere, everyone wore a humble, genial expression or a beaming smile. Now and then came the deep, old-money chuckles that made poor people's wallets tremble.
Ji Jue was laughing so much he was nearly getting PTSD.
Under the crystal chandeliers, everything seemed gilded. The festive atmosphere made it feel as though he had entered heaven.
Guests came and went in numbers greater than Ji Jue had imagined. It looked like some big company's annual gala, though in truth, it wasn't far off.
Nearly every person of standing around Tower City had gathered at this reception. Elegant and courteous, they greeted one another, pressed down the hatred in their hearts and the disgust in their eyes, washed the blood from their hands, and came to hear the "instructions."
Yes, instructions.
At heart, this reception was much like a press conference, except its audience was not the public but everyone in attendance—and the groups, institutions, and organizations they represented!
Five minutes after it began, the reception could essentially be considered over.
At the invitation of its host, Mr. Shaban, CEO of Zhengrong Group, Lieutenant General Fan Yun, commander of the Federation's Tower City Garrison Base, and Duke Pasarela, commander of the