And of course, the system skipped over Hao's second question as if it didn't even exist.
'So he's on par with Kurome, Tian Lu, or one of those peak sect masters?'
'Damn. I thought the old man was strong. But this strong?'
There was no pressure from Old Tiger Zhao.
No heavy aura. No arrogant "You dare look me in the eyes?" energy.
Just… a weird old uncle who looked like he bartered three brain cells for lifelong street food privileges.
Hao glanced up.
Old Tiger Zhao was poking the glass door of the Peach Oolong Tea fridge. In his other hand, he was aggressively shaking a bag of Original Salted Potato Chips.
Why?
Apparently, he just liked the sound it made.
Yup.
Definitely that kind of uncle.
An evil thought slowly crept into Hao's head.
Tempting this old man with employee benefits wasn't that bad, right?
It's not like he was forcing him.
Just a little offer.
Maybe say… three soft serve ice creams a day if he joined?
Totally legal. Probably. Maybe.
