Yang Jing pushed the door and entered. With a creak, the wooden door slowly opened.
The room was not large, but it was kept extremely tidy. A large desk was placed by the window.
Steward Zheng was sitting behind the desk, flipping through a scroll in his hands. Sunlight streamed through the window lattice and fell upon him, making the few silver strands at his temples particularly noticeable.
"Greetings, Steward!" Yang Jing quickly walked forward and bowed to Steward Zheng, his posture respectful.
Hearing the voice, Steward Zheng put down the scroll in his hand and looked up at Yang Jing.
When he saw who it was, a kind smile immediately appeared on his face. He put down his brush, pointed to a nearby chair, and said, "Ah, Yang Jing. Have a seat. What brings you here?"
He had an excellent impression of Yang Jing. During the Dragon Gate martial trial, Yang Jing's performance had been outstanding. His composure and strength had far surpassed those of the other disciples.
