Zhang Ruochen quietly walked into the pub and sat in a corner. He ordered a bottle of wine and drank quietly.
Although he was now famous, few people could recognize him.
He remained unnoticed.
Zhang Rouchen had just sat down when a voice rang in his ear. "Amitabha! Alms Giver, can I sit here?"
He raised his head and saw a bald man in plain clothes behind him.
Why did Zhang Ruochen think that he was a bald man and not a monk?
It was because he was very tall, 2.7 meters, just like a giant. If ordinary people stood beside him, they would only reach his stomach.
Moreover, he looked ugly and ferocious, carrying a two-meter-long broadsword on his back.
No matter how he looked at it, the man looked like a butcher rather than a monk.
The bald man tried to squeeze out a smile that he believed to be very kind and said, "The tavern is already crowded and there are only three empty seats. Alms Giver, give me a chance!"