They couldn’t beat him, so they secured a nice big label on his head. Zhou Zishu’s lips hooked. He picked Zhang Chengling up and got a few zhang away in the blink of an eye, as he had no intention of getting tangled up with them. The scene was chaos; there was Cao Weining stuttering as he defended him, Gao Chong, Zhao Jing, and others cryptically standing by, and that gang of riled-up good-for-nothings headed by Yu Qiufeng who were following after him to cause trouble for reasons unclear. The humongous fuss was akin to a market of dogs.

Zhou Zishu shuttled through the throng of people like a spirit, occasionally striking out and dispatching a few that ran into him. The kid in his arms, due to his connection to the Lapis Armor, had pretty much become a hunk of meat everyone wanted to take a bite of. Yu Qiufeng suddenly seemed to be the reincarnation of a rabid dog, as he was pursuing him from behind relentlessly. Zhou Zishu only felt that this Hua Shan Patriarch was after him like an old wife and wasn’t letting up for anything!

His heart yet burned with rage. He paused in his steps, whirled around, and planned on meeting him head-on.

In that moment, the image of a whip split the air in the nick of time to cut off Yu Qiufeng’s path, followed after by the nose-assaulting stench of alcohol. That drunk-smelling person in disheveled clothing was the one who had left without saying a word last night: Wen Kexing.

His eyes were noticeably scarlet, his steps the distinctive messy ones of a drunkard. He grinned at Zhou Zishu in a way that was completely racy – he intended for his over-the-shoulder glance to have a smile that was infinitely charming, but his intoxicated hiccuping destroyed that. “Ah-Xu, you… you go on ahead, I’ll stop them f… for you.”

Before he was done talking, he stumbled, looking like a tumbler doll in the wind with his head bobbing and tail-end swaying. It was terrifying to watch, but he ended up avoiding Yu Qiufeng’s calling out to him.

While he careened back and forth, the whip in his hand flung out without any regard for order, and through mysterious means, very ‘coincidentally’ wound around Yu Qiufeng’s calf. While everyone was watching, the Hua Shan Patriarch tripped and did a huge faceplant.

Wen Kexing rubbed at his eyes with vigor, walking on soft, noodle-like legs as he stepped like he was doing a yangge dance, and simultaneously cocked his head to peer at the utterly indignant Yu Qiufeng. He waved his hand in front of the other’s eyes, his tongue thick as he spoke. “Hey, that’s… two. Two heads. You… you drink too much, too? Why’re you on the floor?”