'How cute.'
Jin Wuchen noticed. The sect leader's dark eyes — already strained from the "virgin" comment — found Lin Feng's glare. His face darkened.
"Lin Feng!" Jin Wuchen's deep voice thundered across the courtyard. "What is the meaning of this? Do you know whom you are glaring at? That is the Lord Ancestor! A being from the upper realms! Show respect!"
Lin Feng didn't move. His dark eyes stayed locked on Tianlong. His killing intent intensified — the Core Formation qi flaring, the golden core spinning, his spiritual sense pressing outward.
Tianlong looked at him. Their eyes met — gold-crimson and dark. The ancestor and the possessor. The god and the pretender.
"It's fine," Tianlong said. His voice was calm. Unbothered. "The young man has spirit. We can discuss his attitude later."
He paused. His gold-crimson eyes moved from Lin Feng to Jin Wuchen.
"Change the venue," he said. "I would like to sit."
The Hall of Ascending Clouds had been rearranged.
