Qi Tian had already calmed his mind, ready to receive an attack from a late Foundation Establishment cultivator.
To his surprise, Old Xiao merely looked toward Zhao Bufan and said in a hoarse voice,
"Young Master, I only promised your father to ensure your safety."
"I never agreed to help you stir up trouble."
The teahouse fell deathly silent.
Qi Tian blinked.
He had prepared himself for a fierce battle.
He had not prepared himself for this.
But those even more stunned than he was were the people throughout the teahouse.
A servant.
Daring to openly defy Young Master Zhao's command in front of so many people?
Whispers spread through the hall, hushed almost to nothing, yet unable to conceal the shock.
Every pair of eyes moved back and forth between Zhao Bufan and Old Xiao.
Zhao Bufan's face flushed red, then white.
His chest rose and fell violently. The veins on the back of the hand clutching his sleeve bulged, his knuckles turning pale.
He was the City Lord's nephew.
