The young Daoist and the black-clothed little girl brought over tea. They did not take up any seats, instead going to sit by the bamboo chairs.
Liu Xiang thanked them, drank the steaming-hot tea, blew on it, and took a sip. The surface of water in a single tea bowl was like a small mirror.
If astronomy was a wordless book the deities had left to the human world, then the faint ripples in the bowl on the table at this moment were like the traces left by human affairs in the world.
Lu Shen felt uneasy inside. Borrow a book? What he feared was that Zheng Juzhong was deliberately speaking vaguely; in truth, he had come to borrow Lu Shen's life, to "borrow the Dao." Borrow my book to kill my people and steal my Dao?
Was there not someone on Luopo Mountain now who liked to "borrow Daoist names" from Fellow Daoists? How had Bai Jing come to bear more than thirty Dao lineages whose incense had been "utterly severed"?
Lu Shen had no choice but to admit that whether in a battle of wits, courage, strength, or hearts against Zheng Juzhong, he had not the slightest chance of winning. For now, many cultivators had yet to notice a terrifying truth: among the several worlds, or rather, throughout the entire human realm, the only being capable of restraining Zheng Juzhong truly seemed to be Sage of Ritual, who had to remain beyond the heavens. What of Yu Dou? Fei Ran of the Savage Demon Race? Thus, Lu Shen's sole reliance at present was that Zheng Juzhong was too "inhuman"; every move he made would instead be watched by the Temple of Literature?
Zheng Juzhong said directly, "Do not overthink it. I mean exactly what I say. I want