That was easier said than done. Everyone had their own struggles, and high-quality materials weren't exactly easy to come by. There were always those who had been backed into a corner and forced to settle for a First-Order Open Heaven.
The two were still talking when a thunderous crash split the air — the door had been kicked open.
Old Fang, who had just been riding a wave of self-satisfaction, slapped the table and shot to his feet with a roar: "Who's there?!"
He spun around to look. The person standing there was unfamiliar, though something about him rang a bell. Yang Kai, on the other hand, recognized the newcomer at once and blurted in surprise: "Brother Shi?"
It was none other than Shi Haocang — the Monster Race man who had arrived alongside him as one of the new recruits. Yang Kai had no idea what he was doing here, least of all why he had kicked the door in without so much as a by-your-leave.
Hearing Yang Kai call out, Old Fang snapped back to his senses. He vaguely recalled seeing this fellow at the Fire Spirit Land's labor quarters before. He glanced at Yang Kai. "You know him?"
Yang Kai nodded, thinking to himself that it went beyond mere acquaintance — all the newcomers had banded together in a mutual-aid pact.
Since he was Yang Kai's acquaintance, Old Fang couldn't very well give him the cold shoulder. He doused his temper slightly and said, "If he's Brother Yang's friend, why not sit down and have a drink with us?"
Shi Haocang spared Yang Kai a glance, furrowed his brow, then fixed his gaze back on Old Fang and slowly shook his head. "I wouldn't dare impose." He stepped aside and gestured. "Gentlemen — Steward Zhou requests your company."
"St—Steward Zhou?" Old Fang stiffened, and half the alcohol evaporated from his system. "Which… which Steward Zhou?"
Shi Haocang let out a cold laugh. "How many Steward Zhous do you suppose you know?"
"Where… where is Steward Zhou?" Old Fang swallowed hard.
Shi Haocang said nothing. He simply stood there, watching him in silence. A sheen of cold sweat slowly crept across Old Fang's forehead, and a sudden sense of impending doom washed over him.
It hit him then. He must have let his emotions run high earlier, and then gone and drunk too much with Yang Kai. He'd shot his mouth off without thinking, and someone on the other side of the wall had heard every word. For all he knew, Steward Zhou had been sitting in the very next room.
He turned his head and looked at Yang Kai with pleading eyes. Yang Kai could only manage a bitter smile. After a brief pause, he rose to his feet. "Let's go."
If fortune couldn't be avoided, neither could calamity. If they had been invited — both of them — he was clearly lumped in as well.
Shi Haocang took the lead, with Yang Kai and Old Fang trailing close behind. Old Fang's knees were practically knocking together. When he had been chatting with Yang Kai earlier, he'd torn Zhou Zheng — that First-Order Open Heaven cultivator — to shreds, calling him utterly worthless. But an Open Heaven was an Open Heaven, and Zhou Zheng also held the title of Orchard Steward. There was simply no way Old Fang could stand up to him. If the man decided to make his life miserable, he would have no choice but to endure it.
He wished he could slap himself. One drink too many, and his mouth had become an open gate — anything and everything had come pouring out.
Steward Zhou was indeed in the next room, and he was not alone.
When Shi Haocang led them into the adjoining private chamber, Yang Kai looked up to find a table laden with an array of fine dishes. Five people sat around it.
Steward Zhou occupied the seat of honor. At his left hand sat Fang Tai from the Black River World, and at his right sat the woman Su Nianyi. The Thousand Feather Child and A Sun were also present. Every single one of the newcomers who had recently arrived at the Fire Spirit Land was there — not one was missing.
Yang Kai's expression flickered with surprise. The situation was perfectly clear: Fang Tai and his group were hosting a banquet for Steward Zhou. What surprised him was that he had known absolutely nothing about it, and not a single person had thought to let him know. Granted, he had rushed straight from the orchard to the market district the moment he got back, but after forming their alliance, they had all exchanged contact information. Finding him would have been trivially easy — a quick message would have done the trick.
If he hadn't received any word, it meant they had simply never intended to include him.
Thoughts churned in his mind, and the whole picture soon came into focus. Yang Kai let out a dry laugh, not particularly bothered, and stepped forward with Old Fang to offer a cupped-fist salute. "Greetings, Steward Zhou."
Zhou Zheng's face was cold as frost. He sat squarely in the seat of honor, legs spread wide, and didn't so much as glance at the two of them. He simply picked up a cup of wine and took a light sip.
He had no intention of speaking, and Yang Kai and Old Fang didn't dare open their mouths either. The atmosphere in the room grew unbearably heavy. The other newcomers kept their eyes straight ahead, only A Sun repeatedly shooting meaningful glances at Yang Kai — though what he was trying to convey was anyone's guess.
A good while passed before Fang Tai finally offered a faint smile. He picked up the wine pot and refilled Zhou Zheng's cup, then spoke up. "Please calm yourself, Steward Zhou. Some ignorant fool was running his mouth — surely there's no need to take it to heart?"
"Heh…" Steward Zhou let out a soft, cold laugh. He picked up the cup before him, then suddenly flicked his wrist and flung the entire contents forward — straight into Old Fang's face.
The wine carried the force of an Open Heaven behind it. Though it was only liquid, it struck no differently from a cudgel to the skull. Old Fang's head snapped backward from the impact, and he staggered several steps before he managed to keep himself upright. By the time he steadied himself, blood was streaming from both his nose and his mouth.
Zhou Zheng rose from his seat and sauntered over to stand before Old Fang. He looked down at him, his voice frigid. "So — how does this Steward's cultivation sit with you? Am I worthy of your discerning eye, or not?"
Old Fang didn't even bother wiping the blood from his face. His head hung low, and he trembled like a sparrow without a nest in the dead of winter. He stammered and fumbled for a long time, but in the end, all that came out was a stream of apologies.