บท 842: A Shout Throws the Snowstorm into Chaos

The old Guardian expressionlessly nodded to the people outside the ancestral hall.

The mahjong game in the ancestral hall continued. As Tang Thirty-Six drew tiles and played hands, calling out 'chi's and 'peng's, he also constantly talked1.

For every two or three sentences of idle chatter, one sentence was an order, an order for the entire Tang clan.

His orders were incredibly clear and exact, so clear that the stupidest subordinates would know what their mission was, so exact that they even specified which drawer in which desk of which room their objective was.