“Li Fugui?” said Zhou Daya, looking surprised. “Uh, you mean Little Patriarch? Of course I know him! Everyone in the Golden Frost Sect knows the Little Patriarch.” From the expression Meng Hao saw when he looked into his eyes, it didn’t seem as if he was lying. Meng Hao felt a tug at his heart.
“How could Fatty have become a Little Patriarch?” he thought to himself. After a moment, his eyes fell to the paper talisman that Zhou Daya held in hand.