Chen Fan looked back at Meng Hao, who gave a wry smile.
Chen Fan, of course, misinterpreted Meng Hao’s expression. “Don’t worry, little Junior Brother,” he said comfortingly. “That Li fellow is nothing. With me here, he won’t dare to bully you.” His expression was one of concern, leaving Meng Hao without a word to say. “Unfortunately, Master went into secluded meditation last month, and it seems he won’t emerge for a few more months. I left him a message, though. He’ll get it as soon as he comes out.
“After you and I get back from the Song Clan, you can officially join the Solitary Sword Sect. Then that Li guy won’t dare to mess with you. Although, in the meantime, you need to be a bit more careful. Well, I’ll be here by your side anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
Chen Fan’s concern made Meng Hao feel warm in his heart. “Many thanks, Elder Brother,” he said, clasping hands and bowing.
“What’s there to thank? Don’t be so polite! Come come. Let’s light some candles and chat all night.” He laughed heartily as he pulled Meng Hao into the house. Once inside, he slapped his bag of holding to produce two jars of alcohol.