And so it was.
When the people sent to meet Yang Cui knocked on her door, it creaked open. A plump, middle-aged woman with huge golden waves in her hair emerged. Her face was set in a solemn, severe expression, and she carried herself with a fierce, aggressive air. She abruptly planted herself in the doorway like a shrew, two cleavers raised in her hands, and barked loudly, "Scram! This is my house! I'll kill anyone who tries to come in!"
Despite being faced with several burly men, Yang Cui's face still held that fierce courage she'd carried with her from the slums; she wasn't the least bit intimidated.
For a moment, the room fell silent. The Grandmasters who had come to escort Yang Cui exchanged glances, utterly dumbfounded and not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
No wonder Wang Zhan is so tyrannical! Dammit, like mother, like son!
