The night wind howled above the sea surface. In the dim and vast ceiling projection in the Furoh Hall, as the time moved second by second, the two gods played by the actors solemnly climbed to the peak step by step.
Zhang Lisheng looked up at all of this, and his breathing gradually quickened. Right at this moment, a repressed, angry voice resonated behind him. "Mr. Zhang Lisheng, may I know if you are an aristocrat in your hometown? If you are, please allow me to throw a scabbard at your feet."
In the mainlander culture, when an aristocrat threw his scabbard at the foot of another aristocrat, it would mean an invitation to a duel that would not stop until one of them died. Zhang Lisheng had heard of this custom during some idly chat, so he could not help but look back in shock.
