The hall was a flurry of activity, with cups being raised and toasts exchanged, as bustling as a marketplace.
Zhang Dao Ling's table, however, was completely silent, like the surface of calm water.
"Go on, tell me. What is this deal?" Zhang Dao Ling said slowly, his fingers drumming against the tabletop.
Zhang Dao Ling wanted nothing to do with these people from the Xinhua Academy, but his son was simply too much of a disappointment.
Several years ago, his son had secretly joined the Xinhua Academy. He had also provided them with a great deal of information, leading to civilian casualties.
Even though it wasn't direct, he had indirectly caused the deaths and injuries of common people. If word of this ever got out, it would undoubtedly mean immediate execution.
Even his entire clan would not be spared.
He had only this one son. His wife had died giving birth to him, and he had transferred all of his love onto the boy.
