Zhao Rong felt that Zhu Yourong was absolutely doing it on purpose.
Settling private scores under the guise of public business.
That stumble during the day left him in a complete mess; his waist still hurt.
He, a mighty man from the Fu Yao Realm, had crossed swords with Qing Jun in daylight, defeated by the Sword Immortal Lady's sword slaying the azure dragon, without even frowning. And yet, he ended up bending over for Zhu Yourong, which was utterly humiliating.
At that moment, at the entrance of the Wutong Street.
In the cold evening breeze, Zhao Rong hastened to the spot and after waiting for a short while, he saw a group of people approaching.
The leader was a Confucian-robed lady with flowing sleeves, carrying herself with an unrushed grace.
At her side, five people followed.
A stern-faced young girl with a stiff demeanor, followed closely by a shy girl who seemed like a delicate jade of the family.
