One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

Just as he was about to pick up his chopsticks, a hand reached out from the side—Zhuge Gong held a steaming cup of tea and carefully placed it beside him, his movements so gentle as if afraid of startling something, not daring to spill a single drop of tea.

Then he took a half step back, sat down on the chair next to him, and wore a smile that was hard to describe.

Zhuge Ming saw all of this clearly and understood it perfectly.

These two are putting on a show here—Zhuge Zheng plays the bad cop to keep things under control, while Zhuge Gong plays the good cop to show goodwill. One is pushing and the other is going along with it, and they're cooperating quite well.

One used the authority of an elder to shut Old Deng up, while the other expressed his unspoken apology by pouring tea with great courtesy.

Ultimately, I was worried that he, as the son, would harbor resentment.

He put down his chopsticks, picked up the cup of tea and took a small sip. Then he crossed his hands on the table, his gaze slowly sweeping over Zhuge Zheng and Zhuge Gong, a faint, all-knowing smile on his lips.

"Third Uncle, Father—please speak your mind. Today is a family dinner, not a work-related one. We're family, what can't we say to each other?"

Upon hearing this, Zhuge Gong finally found the words he had been holding back all day, as if a play button had been pressed, and immediately opened his mouth: "That's how it is! You traitor—"

The word "rebel" had barely left his lips, and the word "son" was still lingering in his throat, when Zhuge Zheng slammed his chopsticks heavily on the table.

"presumptuous!"

The loud shout made all the bowls and plates on the table tremble, and oil from the chicken soup bowl splattered out, leaving a small dot on the tablecloth.

Zhuge Bai was so startled that he shrank back and almost slipped off his chair.

Zhuge Qing remained unfazed, only slightly widening his narrowed eyes and deepening the curve of his lips.

Zhuge Zheng glared at Zhuge Gong, his gaze sharp as a knife, every word in his voice seeming to be carved from the bluestone threshold of the ancestral hall: "Zhuge Gong! You're becoming more and more disrespectful! As the head of the clan, how can you speak so rudely, so recklessly, and so disrespectfully! Do you have even a shred of paternal kindness, elder virtue, or clan conduct? Sit down properly!"

A barrage of idioms rained down on Zhuge Gong, causing his head to droop lower and lower. He shrunk into his chair, his face flushed and his neck thick, his lips moving for a long time, but he didn't dare to utter a single word.

A clan leader who was the undisputed leader in the clan was actually humiliated and treated like a quail by his own father—no, his own third uncle.

When Zhuge Zheng turned his gaze back to Zhuge Ming, his expression seamlessly switched from "furious" to "gentle and mild" in a fraction of a second.

He sighed, his tone sincere and earnest: "Xiaoming, don't follow your father's example, don't let him influence you. You know him—stubborn, inflexible, and always talking without thinking. But…"

He reached out and gently patted Zhuge Ming's hand, the warmth of his palm seeping through his skin: "Blood is thicker than water. We're family, after all. We can't have any barriers or grudges. If there are barriers between family members, then we're not family anymore, right?"

Zhuge Ming put down his teacup, his expression calm and gentle, and his gaze shifted from Zhuge Zheng's face to Zhuge Gong's face.

Looking at his father's face, flushed red with embarrassment and awkwardness after being scolded, he suddenly felt a surge of something indescribable—not sympathy, nor pride, but a faint, warm sense of helplessness.

"You flatter me, Third Uncle."

He spoke, his voice not loud, but every word was steady and clear, "My father is my father, my father is my father, and my son is my son. This is the natural order of things, and it will never change. Perhaps I haven't been home often these past few years, spending more time serving my country and less time being filial at home. My father is only acting this way because he misses me. As the saying goes, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child,' and 'Spare the rod and spoil the child'—although my father hadn't even had a chance to be hit before you stopped him."

As soon as these words were spoken, the atmosphere at the table visibly relaxed.

Zhuge Gong's shoulders relaxed slightly, Zhuge Qing's lips twitched, and Zhuge Bai covered his mouth and laughed out loud.

Zhuge Ming continued, his tone sincere and frank: "What can't a family do by sitting down and talking it out? Third Uncle, please tell me—what is it that has troubled you to personally intervene, and I heard that it even required the Heavenly Master to travel all the way from Jiangxi to Zhejiang?"

Zhuge Zheng's eyes lit up for a moment, but then he regained his usual composure.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip to moisten his throat, and then slowly spoke, his tone becoming more serious: "Xiao Ming is such a sensible and reasonable child, he understands the bigger picture and puts the overall situation first. Alright, your great-uncle won't beat around the bush with you anymore."

He put down his teacup, crossed his hands on the table, leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice: "Xiao Ming, you know the world of supernatural beings has been quite turbulent lately. It involves old stories, and things are very chaotic. The Celestial Master's Mansion of Longhu Mountain is the leader of the Zhengyi Sect, a prestigious sect with a thousand-year history, arguably the largest sect in the world of supernatural beings, without exception. The old Celestial Master, Zhang Zhiwei, is recognized as the pinnacle of the world of supernatural beings, with unfathomable cultivation over a hundred years."

Zhuge Zheng took a deep breath and slowed his speech, as if to make Zhuge Ming weigh the weight of each word: "Now the Celestial Master has asked our Zhuge Wuhou Sect for help. Our Zhuge Wuhou Sect is also an organization of extraordinary people. Although we are in the south and the north of the Celestial Master's Mansion, we are fellow disciples with a thousand-year-old lineage and our ancestors had a relationship with us. For both reason and sentiment, we cannot turn a blind eye."

He paused, his gaze fixed on Zhuge Ming: "Just yesterday, the Old Celestial Master personally paid a visit. Over a hundred years old, he traveled all the way from Jiangxi to Zhejiang, a long and arduous journey, swallowing his pride, to ask your great-uncle—the most senior member of our clan. Do you think our Wuhou faction should make this effort? Or—is there another reason?"

Zhuge Ming picked up his teacup, slowly blew on the tea leaves floating on the surface, and took a sip.

His expression remained unchanged, but his mind was already rapidly processing all the information.

The old Celestial Master personally visited.

The over 100-year-old Tian Tong Dao Ren, a peerless figure in the world of extraordinary individuals, traveled from Jiangxi to Zhejiang to personally visit the elders of the Zhuge family in order to obtain approval for a Luo Tian Grand Ceremony.

This gesture of respect and sincerity is truly exceptional.

If the Zhuge family doesn't even accept this courtesy, they'll likely face a difficult situation in the entire world of supernatural beings.

"Third Uncle, I understand."

Zhuge Ming put down his teacup, a faint smile appearing on his lips—not a smug smile, but a knowing "as expected" smile. "I just didn't expect that the Old Celestial Master would actually come to Zhejiang in person. It seems that I, the director of the company's Party Committee Inspection Office, have already offended a top figure in the world of supernatural beings before even taking office."