As he was saying this, Nie Zhenbang suddenly moved. He was quiet as a maiden, yet quick as an escaping rabbit. In an advancing flash, he raised, then pulled. His foot lifted, his real kick landing solidly on Guo Tao's stomach. With a loud smack, Guo Tao was sent flying through the air, only to land face-first on the ground like a dog eating manure.
Nie Zhenbang's abrupt move left the castle eerily quiet. Here, Yun Zhiguang, the eldest heir of the Yun family, defined it as a place of elegance, the entire estate radiating nobility. Everyone who came here sought a taste of medieval European nobility, and even the crudest of people had to maintain a gentlemanly demeanor once they entered. Pretending at least.
But Nie Zhenbang's action was like a turd stirred into a pot of porridge, a boulder tossed into a tranquil lake. In the hall, there weren't many people, but everyone had stood up now, their gazes focusing on the spectacle.
