In the grand hall, an eerie silence fell after Lou Yingqi's words trailed off.
Ren Weizhi's expression was exceedingly grim. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Lou Yingqi, who looked as though he was itching to leap up and curse him out. Refusing to be outdone, Lou Yingqi matched his intensity, staring right back. As their gazes clashed, invisible sparks seemed to fly between them.
Conversely, Zeng Shilin—the very center of this verbal warfare—fell into deep thought. He glanced at Lou Yingqi with a slight frown. Although he had some impression of the man, it wasn't much. During their younger days at the Imperial College, Lou Yingqi's talent in the Confucian Dao had been remarkably mediocre. He was merely an obscure, marginalized figure. Let alone paying him any attention, Zeng Shilin wouldn't have even remembered the man's existence if he hadn't thought carefully.
