Most of these hunters focused their attention on the strong and muscular Zhang Lu, not out of malice, but because Zhang Lu, despite the heavy snowfall closing off the mountains, was still making his way swiftly outside, dressed only in thin clothing.
Clearly, he had real skills.
However, Zhang Jian was dressed thickly and tightly. Although he carried a sword at his waist, he seemed much more frail.
"Young Master, it smells so good!"
At this moment, Zhang Lu had already caught the scent. On the campfire was a small pot with uneven surfaces, in which a milky white thick soup was simmering, making Zhang Lu's throat move.
The master and servant had been eating dry rations and preserved fruits in the mountains for the past days. Zhang Jian didn't mind, but Zhang Lu was a bit overwhelmed by it.
Without standing on ceremony, Zhang Jian laughed and said,
