The rested usher suddenly called out loudly, "The master of Lianhuan Fort, Li Changjiang, with young master Li Jincheng, respectfully..."
Before the word "congratulates" could be uttered, a metal box wrapped in white funeral flowers flew into the air, and went straight for Dong Ping on the high platform.
"Crash..."
As soon as they heard the three words "Lianhuan Fort," the guests, who had already snapped back to reality, scattered to the sides, revealing the wide aisle with the scarlet carpet in the middle.
On the high platform, Dong Ping, still holding a bowl of wine in hand, did not lose his smile.
He grasped his fist, big as a sandbag, and threw a punch into the air.
"Bang."
The metal box burst open, and paper money fluttered all over the courtyard.
"Holy shit!"
From the crowd, Yang Tiansheng loudly exclaimed what everyone was thinking: "They're starting off with this much vigor?"
"Shut up!"
