Lang Family’s Second Young Master’s return spread like wildfire.
At the peak of public curiosity, the Lang Family finally held a press conference to solemnly confirm Lang Junxian’s identity.
After the press conference came a grand banquet.
Lang Juntian truly put a lot of effort into acknowledging Lang Junxian’s return.
The attendees were all influential figures from notable families.
Lang Juntian led him through the venue, pushing him forward and making his stance clear.
The atmosphere at the banquet was somewhat subtle.
Soft dance music floated through the hall, the pianist closed his eyes in deep concentration, and graceful dancers twirled and leapt to the rhythm.
The scene was lively yet carried a slight chill.
Lang Furen was still dressed as an elegant noblewoman, the gemstones on her fingers casting colorful glints.
She held a glass of wine, her eyes searching the room as her fingers gripped the cup tightly.
Her two sons sat not far away.
The elder maintained his usual calm demeanor, sipping red wine with no visible reaction.
The younger was more casual, shaking his legs on the sofa before sliding over to sit opposite Bai Maomao.
Lang Furen’s heart was uneasy.
At first, she was angry and unwilling to accept the situation, but there was nothing she could do.
Her natal family depended on the Lang Family’s survival, so no matter how unwilling or questioning she was, she could only endure it grudgingly.
Her sons were also holding back.
The guests sensed the tension.
Seeing the father and son moving through the crowd and then the three sitting quietly with subdued expressions, everyone understood what it meant.
This newly found Second Young Master was favored over the two brothers.
Lang Juntian introduced Lang Junxian to one person after another.
In high society, banquets were all about connections.
He brought his second son around to chat and laugh, standing taller than before. Finally, he could silence those who doubted the Lang Family’s future.
After acknowledging the key figures, Lang Junxian followed Lang Juntian to meet the legendary Lang Family Old Master.
Lang Family Old Master Lang Zhizhang was 290 years old, extremely elderly, almost halfway into the grave.
Having cultivated to the Rebirth Realm of Immortal Transformation, his maximum lifespan was three hundred years.
Lang Zhizhang had lived 229 years and had at most ten more years to live.
With age, he disliked moving much but enjoyed lively scenes—not by joining in, but by watching others.
Surrounded by the bustle, it was as if he returned to his youth, full of vitality.
The Old Master rested in his grand chair, half-asleep.
Lang Juntian led the group forward to pay respects.
Although he was the Old Master’s grandson, this was their first meeting.
One kept his eyes closed to maintain the elder’s dignity, while the other lowered his eyes, lost in thought.
“Father, this is Junxian.”
The Old Master raised his tilted head.
His appearance was not particularly old, looking more like an ordinary man in his fifties.
Wearing a traditional robe and long jacket, his long white hair neatly tied in a Taoist style, he exuded an immortal aura that clashed oddly with the modern banquet hall.
“Come here,” the Old Master beckoned, “Grandpa wants a look.”
Lang Junxian stepped forward two paces, still with his eyes lowered, his sharpness fully retracted.
The Old Master scrutinized the grandson.
Despite his young age, his cultivation already matched his own.
In time, he would surely soar to great heights.
The only question was whether the dragon who ascended the skies would lift the Lang Family with him or betray them.
“Has your mother seen you?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing you want to ask?”
Lang Junxian shook his head.
“No, I don’t remember the past.”
“Oh?”
The Old Master raised an eyebrow and carefully observed his expression.
He didn’t seem to be lying but still felt uneasy, asking again, “Don’t you want to remember?”
“Why dwell on the past? What matters is the present.”
He lifted his head to meet the Old Master’s gaze.
His youthful face held innocence, pride, and unhidden ambition.
The Old Master nodded with satisfaction and handed him a jade pendant, officially recognizing him as his grandson.
Lang Junxian accepted it steadily, but a flash of wild joy crossed his face.
The Old Master had lived many years and was a keen observer; naturally, he noticed the expression.
Ambition was a quality worth nurturing.
The banquet was a great success.
Lang Juntian was pleased that the Lang Family finally had an heir. Lang Junxian was also satisfied—his plan had taken its first step.
Elsewhere, Bai Maomao sat idly propping his head up, glancing around.
Xiao Hei was busy running about and couldn’t keep him company, so he was left alone in a corner to stew.
After a short while, Lang Junning approached, following the scent.
He gave Bai Maomao a light glance.
Bai Maomao restrained an eye roll—how annoying.
Holding his wine glass and swirling it, Bai Maomao felt Lang Junning’s unwavering stare.
His mind was filled with lewd thoughts.
Uncomfortable under the gaze, Bai Maomao frowned and pushed him away.
“You’re blocking me.”
Lang Junning smiled shamelessly.
“Isn’t a pretty one like you bored alone? Big brother will keep you company.”
“No need.”
Bai Maomao looked at him with disdain.
The man practically wanted to glue his eyes to him. Didn’t he realize?
Lang Junning persisted, “I heard you and Second Brother are university classmates, both from Xuan Huang University?”
“Yeah,” Bai Maomao responded perfunctorily, shooting him a sharp look.
“What’s it to you?”
That look struck Lang Junning hard.
Bai Maomao was naturally attractive.
His almond-shaped eyes lifted slightly, and when wide open, they were sparkling and cute.
But when narrowed with the outer corners raised, they became alluring and captivating.
Lang Junning straightened his pants, voice awkward, “I just wanted to check on Second Brother.”
Though he claimed concern for Second Brother, his eyes never left Bai Maomao.
Bai Maomao was annoyed but too lazy to move.
Even if he switched seats, Lang Junning would probably stick like glue.
So bothersome.
When would Xiao Hei be done?
Regret flickered in Bai Maomao’s mind for coming—he’d rather have gone somewhere quiet to cultivate.
Seeing Bai Maomao indifferent, Lang Junning wasn’t discouraged and shamelessly stayed put, chatting half-heartedly.
About every ten sentences, he earned a single “hmm” in response.
Lang Junning crossed his legs, blocking awkward looks from others.
The person before him was practically a prize.
Even a nasal “hmm” was irresistibly charming.
The banquet reached its peak.
Guests and their companions gradually moved onto the dance floor, swaying with the music.
Lang Junqi approached Bai Maomao, holding a small box.
Lang Junning exchanged a glance with him.
“It’s a congratulatory gift sent by the steward, for the second brother.”
Bai Maomao took the wooden box, which was light and mysterious.
Lang Junqi continued, “The giver left no name. They gave it to the steward and left. Do you know who it might be?”
Bai Maomao shook his head and slipped the box into his Qian Kun Dai.
“Thanks.”
Noticing his action, Lang Junqi’s eyes flickered.
“I’ll take my leave now. You two can talk.”
Bai Maomao returned to his daze.
Lang Junning swirled his wine glass and toasted, “Have a drink. From now on, we’re family.”
Bai Maomao raised his glass but didn’t clink with him, drinking alone.
Lang Junning wasn’t upset; on the contrary, he seemed in high spirits, eagerly watching the center of the dance floor.
After forcing himself to stay a bit longer, Bai Maomao grew even more bored.
With the annoying pest beside him babbling nonstop like a buzzing fly, an inexplicable irritation surged.
Suddenly, he stood and walked out.
The air here was foul—he’d better wait for Xiao Hei outside.
Lang Junning swallowed hard as he watched Bai Maomao’s retreating back, silently following.
By the time Lang Junxian finished his business, Bai Maomao was gone.
A faint smirk played on Lang Junxian’s lips.
He had met everyone he needed to.
There was nothing left for him here, so he decided to find Bai Maomao.
The courtyard was silent, unnervingly so.
Lang Junxian’s eyelid twitched as he hesitated before entering the house.
Muffled moans came from inside.
Taking a few more steps, he saw Lang Junning half-alive, collapsed on the ground clutching his chest in pain.
The moaning came from the inner room.
Bai Maomao lay there dazed, his face flushed red from fever.
The wine he drank had been drugged by Lang Junqi.
The medicine was potent—no matter how high one’s cultivation, falling victim would turn them into nothing but a puddle.
Bai Maomao was already succumbing.
Before even entering the house, he sensed something was wrong. Coupled with the suspicious figure lurking behind, it became clear that he was caught in a trap.
Lang Junning’s plan was clever, but Bai Maomao was no pushover.
Even drugged, he had still managed to knock Lang Junning down.
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