At the entrance to Luopo Mountain, Little Millet sat primly upright, the Golden Flat Shoulder Pole and Green Bamboo Staff both laid on the table.
Immortal Master Wei was chatting animatedly with a young Daoist wearing a Lotus Crown. They got along splendidly.
The other party claimed he had met the Mountain Lord at the tip of a duckweed blade and was also Daoist Jing Qing's close friend and relative.
The black-clothed little girl kept staring at the two Daoists' tea bowls. She watched them drink and drink, yet the bowls never emptied, giving her no chance to refill them.
Bored out of her wits, she unconsciously reached out and rolled the Green Bamboo Staff lightly between her fingers, making it creak. She immediately stopped. Sure enough, the visiting Daoist turned to look over. Little Millet hurriedly apologized, then straightened her back and extended one hand forward, indicating that the two of them should continue discussing the Dao.
That Daoist had a good temper. Smiling, he said, "It's fine. Back at the Daoist grounds, lofty gentlemen as thin as wild cranes often chat and argue. Whenever someone says something particularly brilliant, a jade chime rings out, crisp and delightful."
Up on the mountain, the green-robed young boy first flung his sleeves and swaggered along the bluestone mountain path toward the sacred stairway that had once led to the ancestral shrine atop the mountain. He intended to go up and catch his breath. Once he reached the stairs, he planned to see whether gatekeeper Immortal Wei was slacking off. Chen Lingjun planted both hands on his hips and gazed toward the mountain gate. His heart clenched. He hurriedly raised a hand to shield his eyes. Damn it, he had not seen wrong. It really was that bastard deserving a thousand cuts,