"Bullshit!"
A cry of anger drew the attention of many people.
The guests attending the birthday banquet all looked towards the corner with puzzled faces.
Liu Mo, dressed in a neatly tailored suit, had his hair combed spotlessly clean.
One could tell at a glance he was a person of status.
On the other side, Lin Fan's mouth was greasy.
His right hand still held a pork knuckle.
His clothes were damp, and his hair was somewhat disheveled.
Such a stark contrast inevitably sparked discussions among the crowd.
But it was evident that everyone thought there was something off about Lin Fan.
This is the case of "Buddha relies on gold; Man relies on clothes."
"Hey, today is someone's birthday party; are you trying to start trouble?"
Lin Fan leaned on the table.
While talking, he didn't forget to take big bites of the pork knuckle.
The silver needle technique he had used before had reversed yin and yang.
It had taken a tremendous toll on him.
