Faced with Feng Qizheng's fury, the manager only smiled. "Young Lord, come back with this subordinate... The sect master and all the brothers of the sect are longing for you to come back and take charge."

Feng Qizheng said furiously, "Come back, my granny's leg... Your father has more silver than he can spend and more girls than he can sleep with. Go back and wait to die with you pigs?"

"Calm yourself, Young Lord. The Young Lord has made some silver following Ning Chen, it's true, but it's nothing next to the mountains of gold and silver the sect has. As for women, if only the Young Lord will come back, he can have any kind of beauty he wants."

"Pah... Your father wants a brother like Ning Chen, a man he can trust with his life. Can you give me that?"

"From the sect master down to the least brother of the sect, every one of us would climb a mountain of blades and go down into a sea of fire for the Young Lord, and die a hundred deaths without regret!"

Feng Qizheng had the fight taken right out of him.

He threw the manager to the floor, pulled over a stool, sat down and asked, "What exactly are you people trying to do?"

The manager's face was dead serious. "We mean to help the Young Lord take the throne. That throne was Prince Qi's to begin with. The Young Lord is Prince Qi's descendant. By rights, the throne is yours."

Feng Qizheng burst out laughing and sprayed spit all over the manager's face.

"Are you people sick in the head? A rabble like you, and you want to seize the throne? Let me tell you something... As long as Ning Chen is around, nobody under heaven is going to overturn the Great Xuan.

Here's some friendly advice: while Ning Chen still doesn't know about your stupid ideas, break up fast and go home to your lives.

If Ning Chen finds out you've got ideas about seizing the throne, I guarantee you'll die a miserable death. By…