It was obvious he was putting on an act!
Zhao Jinze was speechless. He shot Zhao Rui a playful glare, then turned to join the others in their drinking games.
A warrior needs blood, not rouge. His cold blade is wiped on a beauty's clothes.
By the time the uncle and nephew left the Gathering Talent Pavilion, the sky was already pitch-black.
Zhao Rui drove his slightly tipsy third uncle home.
"I owe you three lives!"
In the car, Zhao Jinze let out a breath heavy with the smell of alcohol and spoke with lingering fear.
"If my dad heard that, he'd break my legs. Back in the day, they'd wipe out three generations of a family for a crime. Uncles and nephews counted as one."
"Pah! What nonsense are you spouting, kid!"
Zhao Jinze couldn't help but laugh as he chided him.
'His nephew's meaning was clear: they might bicker over small things, but when it truly mattered, they were family.'
