None of them answered.
Elites were elites, after all, nothing like the riffraff he had seen earlier—they did not even rush to open fire. Instead, they scanned their surroundings, confirmed there was no ambush, and only then trained their dark gun barrels on Zhou You.
"Who are you?"
Zhou You spread his hands and smiled.
"As you can see, I'm just an ordinary refugee. Nothing much..."
Bang!
A gunshot rang out.
Their leader spoke.
"I'll ask you a second time. Who are you? What's your connection to the person who killed Du Mao?"
Zhou You looked at the bullet hole beside his feet and shook his head.
"You people really are something. Do you think intimidation looks cool? Normally, you'd either shoot me full of holes the moment you saw me or calmly try to sound me out... never mind."
Just as the man was about to issue another warning, Zhou You raised his head and glanced at them. "I have a few questions myself. Would any of you care to answer them?"
"...What questions?"
"I really just want to know where you inherited these Nine Streams arts from. That Manager Chun's methods looked a lot like the Thousand Gate's, while Du Mao's resembled the Great God's. And the aura on you lot... hmm, there's a touch of the Pawn about it... But I'm also curious. In this age of declining magic, even Mount Mao almost lost its lineage. How exactly did cultivators like you... come into being?"
The man's gaze gradually turned cold.
For the second time, he asked the same question.
"Who exactly are you?"
Zhou You shrugged.
"To be precise, I suppose I'm your ancestor."
...To be fair, Zhou You was usually being sarcastic when he said things like that. This time alone, however, he genuinely meant