Chen San sat upright at the lower seat of the main position, with a delicate green porcelain cup in front of him. The spiritual tea had long gone cold, a few leaves spread out at the bottom of the cup, like deep green flat boats quietly moored in a cold pool.
Today he was dressed more properly—a blue-gray long robe, plain-colored waist belt, the cuffs washed clean and crisp, his hair combed impeccably. However, the shrewd air of a streetwise cultivator still couldn't be hidden in his eyes, as they darted around in calculation.
Ning Zhuo's orders to him were straightforward: come to this building, rent a private room, and openly gather all intelligence on the Heaven-reaching Hook and the Three Brave of Xiang Sect. The bigger the fuss, the better.
