"That joke wasn't funny at all," Yenaier said, her gaze turning a little colder as she looked at him. Zeng Mu felt uncomfortable all over and shrugged his shoulders. Just as he was about to turn away to avoid her eyes, she added, "But you do seem much more humorous than before."
Those words instantly eased the atmosphere again.
Okelo was the first to strike up a conversation with the two of them in that relaxed atmosphere. For more than three years, she had been traveling from place to place on business, clearly unable to enjoy the carefree seclusion in the mountains that Zeng Mu had. This was her first time seeing either of them since that Temple Capital tournament.
"Wonderful. It seems you really are the Holy Temple's hope. You've already become its pillars of strength. She certainly had a good eye."
"Yes, it's a pity that was also the last Temple Capital tournament. The situation on the continent is very tense now. All three sides are constantly building up their military strength. An all-out war could come next month, or it could come tomorrow. It simply depends on which side breaks the stalemate and makes the first move." She shook her head gently and sighed.
"This isn't a place for a lengthy conversation. Come on, let's go somewhere else." Pitman spoke before Zeng Mu could.
The four left the street. A few minutes later, they were in a room at an inn.
Outside the window, it had grown completely dark. A tallow lamp burned on the table. Its faint light was enough to dispel half the darkness in the room.
"They say Zhao Zheng's surname is Ying," Okelo murmured.
Zeng Mu nodded and said with unquestionable confidence, "That's right. It's his father's surname. Zhao Zheng is actually a