Jiang Ying sat slurping a steaming bowl of red bean paste soup. Before long, Real Person Xuwu appeared on the podium. His slate-gray Daoist robes fluttered without a breeze, and his brows were locked in a deep scowl; he wore such a sour expression that one might think everyone in the hall owed him millions of spirit stones.
The room fell silent at once.
Jiang Ying hurriedly gulped down the last of her soup and straightened her posture.
Chapter 88