This seemingly unremarkable glance unexpectedly stirred a sense of threat in Zhu Haomiao's heart, like a thorn pressing against his back.
"Who is this young man?"
"A friend, who has arranged to meet Lord Nalan."
Seeing that Wang Hua was unwilling to elaborate, the personal guard commander with a fierce aura frowned in discomfort, his gaze falling on the black sword at the youth's waist.
"Then may I trouble the gentleman to leave his weapon outside the tent."
"No need, let them come in."
At that moment, a rich, magnetic male voice came from inside the tent, and the personal guard commander quickly cupped his fists in acceptance.
"As you command."
Having said that, he lifted the heavy curtain of the central army tent and respectfully gestured.
"Please."
"Thank you for your trouble."
Wang Hua casually cupped his fists, leading the silent youth into the spacious central army tent.
