Deep black robes embroidered with golden lion beasts set off her cold, breathtakingly beautiful face.
Along with the three men who looked like trouble at first glance.
This was no feast attendance—it looked more like they had come to smash the place up.
The hall, which had been buzzing with flattery and fawning just moments ago, now fell utterly silent.
Every gaze converged on that slender figure.
Jiang Yuechu's eyes swept lightly over the merchants and wealthy gentry, all silent as cicadas in winter, before finally settling on the seat of honor.
The old monk with white hair and beard looked over as well.
Their gazes met.
Neither spoke, and no one else dared make a sound.
After a long while.
A fat-headed salt merchant, emboldened by drink, suddenly slapped the table and rose to his feet. Pointing at Jiang Yuechu, he shouted harshly, "With the master present, how dare a mere junior like you arrive so late, with no respect at all! Hurry over and apologize to the master!"
The instant his words fell.
A fierce glint flashed through Chen Tong's eyes. His hand had already settled on his sword hilt as he spoke coldly.
"You want to die?"
Intimidated by his killing aura, the salt merchant shuddered. His legs nearly gave out beneath him, yet he still craned his neck stubbornly.
"Y-You people from the Demon Suppression Bureau, are you planning to commit violence in public?!"
"Amitabha."
Bujie, his belly thrust out before him, waddled forward unsteadily. Smiling, he gave the salt merchant a Buddhist salute. "Benefactor, that is not quite right."
"The master is an enlightened monk, his six senses pure and the four elements empty. Why would he care about such worldly formalities? Making such a noisy fuss only lowers you to the inferior path and