"We meet again, Sect Master Qingtian. Every time I see you, I get a familiar feeling. You resemble an old acquaintance of mine. I have to say, it is quite a fated connection."
Song Changsheng wore an enigmatic smile.
"Is that so? Then I am truly fortunate. I wonder if I might have the chance to meet this old acquaintance of yours, True Person?"
"I fear you will not have that chance. She is already dead."
"Is that so? What a pity." Qingtian drained the wine in her cup, concealing the cold glint that appeared in her eyes.
Of course, she could hear the probing and suspicion in Song Changsheng's words, but she did not care. Otherwise, she would not have approached him of her own accord.
They had not suspected her for merely a day or two. So long as they had no concrete evidence, suspicion was nothing more than suspicion. They could do no more than that.
This was what she liked most—and hated most—about righteous cultivators. They demanded so-called evidence for everything. If it were her, she would never allow the seeds of suspicion to keep growing.
Yet she had used precisely this point to stage a cicada shedding its golden shell.
Officially, Ling Mou was dead. The victory banquet had already ended. No matter what, she was now the Sect Master of the Qingtian Sect.
Zhuang Yuechan walked up to them and familiarly took Qingtian's hand. "I heard that under your governance, Bingzhou's situation has improved greatly in recent years, and you have sheltered a great number of loose cultivators.
"For Great Qi, this should have been a good thing. Still, I would like to remind you of something, fellow cultivator. Many remnants of the Vast Righteousness Alliance are hidden among the loose cultivators. It never