They were unaware that Ning Zhuo also came from a humble background. He wasn't favored by his family since childhood, wandering the streets with Sun Lingtong, experiencing the warmth and coldness of humanity. Hence, Ning Zhuo never held an air of superiority over these people.
In the middle of the discussion, a young cultivator stood at the edge of the screen, cautiously peeking over, glanced around, and quickly withdrew upon seeing numerous gazes turning towards him.
After taking a deep breath, he finally stepped forward, holding an invitation, formally entering the hall.
He had a square jaw and a wide mouth, broad shoulders and a thick back, his skin of ancient bronze, attire ordinary, with a pair of cloth shoes on his feet.
Cao Gui, Kong Liubai, Ahuo, and others didn't recognize him.
"It's him." Ning Zhuo's heart stirred slightly, recalling this person, and immediately understood his origin.
