"Demon Binding Queen, don't go too far!"
Ye Miao's voice was deep, exuding the demeanor of Confucianism, and he casually called out Jian Jiaojiao's former nickname in Yanjing.
"Hmph, today, I am going to throw this kid out, and no one can stop me, not even you, Ye Kuangru!"
As soon as she finished speaking, Ye Miao's eyes narrowed, looking toward the entrance.
A slender figure was slowly approaching.
It was an old man about sixty years old, with a longsword as thin as a bamboo pole at his waist. He looked shabby, but his eyes radiated a sharp brilliance, carrying a powerful aura.
Ye Miao spoke in a grave tone, "Loose Cultivator, Zhu Zhusword?"
The sword-bearing old man walked forward step by step, and the onlookers felt a sense of oppression.
All attendees of this banquet were Yanjing elites, so how could anyone be allowed to bring weapons?
But he was an exception, and no one dared to stop him.
