In the courtyard.
Chen Lin looked at all those stunned, lost faces, his head throbbing.
This was exactly the sort of situation he dreaded most.
He wasn't afraid of fighting. Cultivating never bothered him. Even if he had to fight that Foundation Establishment puppet again, he wouldn't so much as blink.
But facing a group of relatives who regarded him as an immortal made him uncomfortable all over.
"All right." He raised a hand and pressed it downward, deliberately keeping his tone relaxed. "Stop standing around. Sit down, have some water. The sky hasn't fallen."
He walked over to Wang Guihua.
The middle-aged woman was looking up at him, tears and snot smeared across her face, her lips trembling too badly to form a single complete word.
Just moments ago, she had been begging him to lend her money.
Now she barely had the courage to speak.
Chen Lin crouched in front of her.
The gesture made Wang Guihua shudder.
"Aunt Guihua."
Chen Lin's voice wasn't loud, but it was as steady as a mountain.
"Brother Dayong took punches for me when we were kids. I've remembered that for over a decade, and I've never repaid him."
He looked into Wang Guihua's eyes.
"He's my brother."
"I won't let anyone harm a hair on his head."
Wang Guihua finally opened her mouth.
She didn't say "thank you."
She simply burst into tears, crouching on the ground with her face buried in her hands, sobbing like a child.
It was the kind of sobbing that came only when someone had reached the depths of despair, then suddenly been pulled back from the edge of a cliff.
Chen Lin stood up.
He turned to Ye Wenjun.
"How long will it take the Jiaolong Guard to reach Yicheng?"
Ye Wenjun glanced at his