Bai Lu, upon seeing the Blacksmiths disciples stepping in front of the youth that insulted him protectively, glared at them condescendingly before spitting out, “A bunch of weak trash clustering together for support. So what? Trash will be trash.”
The expression on the Blacksmith disciples' faces changed when they heard that, and suddenly Bai Lu felt multiple dagger-like gazes stabbing into the back of his head.
Bai Lu looked around to see that every Blacksmith disciple had turned to glare at him.
Having nearly a hundred people turn to look at you would cause anyone to become nervous, especially since they were filled with anger, but Bai Lu only snorted as he remembered his status and strength compared to them.