His teacher had returned from the Central Plains Confucian Temple—and sure enough, he had brought the Sage of Ritual with him to Treasure Bottle Continent.
Chen Ping'an and the others rose at once. Cao Qinglang bowed alongside his teacher. Pei Qian saw her master's wife salute with cupped fists and followed suit; bowing to people felt awkward to her.
Only the young innkeeper's daughter felt a little embarrassed. She stood with the others, glanced left and right, then chose to salute with cupped fists like Master Ning. They were Jianghu Folk who didn't fuss over formalities, after all.
She had been puzzled just moments ago. What sort of martial sect was this? They spoke without making a sound. Could it be the long-lost art of sending words directly into another's ear?
Following that thread, the girl wondered if Master Ning's group was actually a whole nest of supreme masters.
But now another scholar had appeared, and she was unsure all over again. Did Master Ning really come from some martial sect tucked away in a forgotten corner? It was hard to say.
Ning Yao patted the girl's head and smiled. "Go back to the inn. I promise we won't steal your family's benches."
The girl murmured assent. There was no point staying, anyway. She stepped over the threshold alone, went inside, leaned over the counter, and whispered to her father, "Dad, another scholar I don't know just showed up outside. He's pretty tall and looks quite learned. For all we know, he might be a Jinshi who's become a high official."
The old innkeeper was drinking wine with a few side dishes while leafing through a book. He could not even be bothered to look toward the door. "Are scholars scarce around Yichi Lane?"
Outside the inn, the Sage of