Tao Ran swallowed, forced himself to steel his nerves, and asked through Inner Voice, "Are you really that person?"
Sword Immortal Tao did not even dare call him by name. That would have been far too outrageous.
Chen Ping'an replied with a smile through Inner Voice, "Didn't I already tell you by the Lin River last time? If nothing unexpected happened, then it was me. Sword Immortal Tao simply refused to believe it."
How the hell was I supposed to believe that?
Just meeting some young man on the road, with twin blades hanging at his waist, dressed in a green robe, cloth shoes, and a long gown—and then he claimed to be Chen Ping'an. Was I supposed to believe him like a fool?
It was like someone from the edge of heaven suddenly walking right before his eyes, like a figure stepping out from the pages of a book.
Cui Dongshan, dressed in white and wearing a sword, gave Tao Ran a thumbs-up from afar. Beside him, Great Sword Immortal Mi was waggling his brows at Sword Immortal Tao.
There was roughly half an incense stick's time left before the auspicious hour for the sect-founding ceremony. Chen Ping'an strode forward and exchanged a few pleasantries with the guests attending the ceremony. Taking this chance, the sword cultivator Tao Ran, whose mind was a complete mess, looked around and picked a place for himself. In the end, Chen Ping'an led his martial nephew Zheng Yougan by the hand and stopped at a "small hill" on the very edge. These people who were about to become Genealogical Cultivators of Qingping Peak on Xiandu Mountain found it almost laughable: most of them still did not know the true identity of the green-robed Sword Immortal before them. After arriving at the square, they