Ximen Rongcheng rested with his eyes closed, ignoring the fellow.
Yang Zhiqiang was the Yang Family's other Soul Douluo. He had originally been the one assigned to deal with the Demon Sheep Sect last time.
But an elder sister one rank above him was enough to scare him stiff, and she had snatched the assignment away. Yes, he was Yang Jingxue's younger brother.
Ma Zhibin said, "Old Xun, you've already finished setting up this ancestral hall. Tsk, tsk, look at those magnificent, elegant crimson embroidered skirts wrapped around the big offering tables."
"This fabric must have quite a few years on it, eh? You've hung up the horizontal banners, couplets, and paintings too."
"Need any pigs or sheep slaughtered? That's my specialty."
The show-off had always made himself right at home.
Men in their fifties had generally endured hardships, weathered storms, and been tempered by time, displaying a mature depth of character.
Some were cultured and graceful, others steady and worldly, standing in stark contrast to the youth, good looks, and impulsiveness of younger men. In short, their sunset glow still reddened half the sky.
Thus, composure and restraint were traits they shared, but Ma Zhibin's personality had not changed from twenty or thirty years ago.
Ma Zhibin clamored, "Oh, right, right! Where's your Hall of Gratitude? I need to pay my respects to my ancestors."
The Hall of Gratitude was where those who had shown kindness to the Chen Clan were honored. It stood in the rear hall, alongside the Loyalty Hall dedicated to the families of their followers.
The Ma Family had been friends with the Chen Clan for generations, and ancestors of the Ma Family were enshrined here.
Xue Tianming said with some disdain, "You're getting on in years. Could you stop making such a racket?"
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