"Wait!"
Wang Laoshi's magnifying glass suddenly dropped from his hand, and without worrying about maintaining his image, he urgently said, "Are you saying that a young man came looking for me and mentioned the Shennong Clan?"
"Yes, and he drove a Porsche, definitely trying to pull some strings. I couldn't let him harm you, Dean..."
The new secretary, around forty years old and still charming, was full of righteousness.
"Oh no, look at the mess you've created. Quick, call the gatekeeper, we must hold that person. No, I must go there myself."
Wang Laoshi was frantic, as if his bottom was on fire, and at such a time he couldn't care less about the new secretary's opinion—his own safety was paramount.
Because he had a premonition, it was King Yanluo of Xingtian who had come. If he dared to be negligent, the consequences would be worse than he imagined.
"Dean, why are you so scared? Who is that young man?"
