That evening, Jiang Ping attended a banquet—more precisely, Escort Huang's promotion banquet.
It turned out Huang Youren had not taken on an escort mission for two months not because he was resting, but because he had long since reached Ninth-Rank Perfection. At last, through sheer time and grinding effort, he had worn through the bottleneck and entered the Eighth Rank.
Escort Huang was thrilled and excited, so he invited most of the escorts to a meal and held a lively banquet.
Of course, compared to true geniuses, this little achievement was hardly worth mentioning—one might even call it negligible.
After all, Huang Youren had become a martial artist twenty years ago. It had taken him twenty years to rise from the Subordinate Ninth Rank to the Eighth Rank—a pace slow as a turtle's crawl.
But that was the true portrait of an ordinary martial artist. A minor breakthrough alone was enough to make one happy and boastful for ages; let alone breaking through a major realm. They would probably wake up laughing even in their dreams.
"Congratulations, Master Huang, on entering the Eighth Rank."
Jiang Ping arrived at the banquet with a gift and offered Escort Huang his congratulations.
He added, "If you advance another step, you'll be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the head escorts and build your own core team."
"Haha, too soon, too soon."
Escort Huang's face was glowing with pride.
Having broken through to the Eighth Rank, his strength had increased tremendously. From now on, whenever he led escort missions, he would have far more confidence.
He might not be able to take on Mighty Drafter missions like the major head escorts, but at the very least, when facing many bandits, he would no longer need to put on a smiling face. He could