“Whose junior is this, that’s been brought here?”
In that heavy, oppressive air, countless heads turned in unison toward the black-robed woman who had spoken.
Everyone felt a prick of annoyance, but no one recognized her.
Still, anyone who could come through the Yan family gate to attend a banquet clearly was no ordinary person.
The Yan household kept strict defenses; no one would come without their identity being checked beforehand.
Just because these people didn’t recognize her didn’t mean others wouldn’t.
So no one dared to ask.
This was a social affair—needlessly offending someone here would be foolish.
Yet no one wanted their own prestige cut down by her words.
A sneer cut through the hush. “He can swagger in Mingzhou, but not in Guazhou. Imperial decrees won’t control the Zhensui Bureau—what use is an edict when the emperor’s been dead twenty years? One paper can’t do anything.”
“Even while the emperor lived, decrees couldn’t always suppress the ways of evil and shrine-cults. But here in Guazhou we have the Iron-Threshold King present; his kingly aura gathers here. If the Zhensui Bureau comes, surely they’ll show some respect, won’t they?”
“...”
“Well said!”
Before others could react, a man in a silver robe and embroidered boots, a red coronet on his head, called out loudly in agreement.