Third floor of Fortune-Full Tower, Heaven-Class Private Room.
When Yi Yang pushed the door open and entered, Zhao Gang was already seated in the guest's place, holding a bowl of tea and talking up a storm with the man at the head of the table.
"Lord Sun, that calligraphy you wrote last time was wonderful. I'm a rough fellow who knows nothing about brushwork, but that spirit-tsk, tsk, what scholar in Cloud Pattern Town could write like that?"
Zhao Gang looked so sincere as he spoke that Yi Yang almost believed him.
The man at the head of the table was in his early forties, of medium build, with a fair, clean face and three short wisps of beard, all neatly trimmed.
He wore a plain-colored long robe, with no saber at his waist, only a piece of lustrous green jade. Subtle patterns were embroidered at his collar. Every inch of him looked the scholar.
Sun Xing, one of the three Deputy Patrol Chiefs at the Heaven Patrol Office's Cloud Pattern Town branch, at the qi-blood fourth level.
Unlike a burly warrior such as Qian Hu, Sun Xing cultivated a refined air. He enjoyed writing and literary pursuits, and his desk held either a blade or an inkstone. Those in the Heaven Patrol Office had nicknamed him "Scholar Sun."
Of course, a nickname was only a nickname. No one who rose to Deputy Patrol Chief was a soft persimmon ripe for squeezing.
Yi Yang entered with his back bent and cupped his hands in greeting. "Lord Sun, sorry to intrude."
Sun Xing rose with a smile on his face, one far more accomplished than Tang Hao's. Neither excessively familiar nor aloof, it carried just the right degree of warmth.
"Please, take a seat, Old Man Yi. No need to stand