A few seconds after the offer had been made, there was a deafening silence. Yang Qing had expected it, really. Not everyone was like him, eating first and suspecting later, and even then, the suspicion was more of an afterthought than any deliberate intent on his part. Take the wine they were currently enjoying, for example. Yang Qing knew more about Fan Jie and the other founders of the Vast Blue than he did about the mysterious figure who had handed him that wine and the gourd it came in, made from precious Saint Grade material.
Yang Qing and that person had not known each other at all. Though a wishful part of him did play around with the idea that the figure could have been a Yang Clan ancestor, doting on a promising descendant. After all the suffering he had endured for the sake of the clan, Yang Qing felt he was owed some manner of recompense, and that wine and gourd felt fitting enough for it.
