"Kid, are you mincing dumpling filling?"
Meng Yuan had been chopping with such focus that only when he heard someone speak did he realize he had gotten too absorbed. The old monk had long since died beyond death.
Coming back to his senses, he followed the voice and looked over.
Night had already fallen. Gong Zihua was kneeling on one knee, supporting himself with his saber, his head still lowered.
A large magpie stood on his shoulder, several times larger than an ordinary magpie and nearly comparable to a hawk. Its black beak gleamed, its feathers were brilliant, and though its eyes were small, they were especially lively.
Meng Yuan had no experience fighting bird demons, but he reckoned that even if it could fly, a thrown saber might still hit it.
The magpie seemed to sense the overwhelming killing intent in Meng Yuan and hurriedly cawed, "Kid, we're on the same side!"
"Really? I don't believe you," Meng Yuan said.
"Old Gong, say something!" The magpie did not dare flee either, afraid Meng Yuan might be unable to resist drawing his saber. Flapping its wings anxiously, it pecked at Gong Zihua's ear again and again with its long beak.
"We're on the same side," Gong Zihua replied weakly. He raised his head, his eyes still somewhat dazed. It was clear he, too, had gone through a life of wild rises and plunging falls, and had nearly shaved his head.
"You two were far too arrogant!" Seeing Meng Yuan put away his saber, the magpie raised its voice. "That old monk was likely at the peak of Eighth Rank, already touching the threshold of Seventh Rank. He had the skill of Unhindered Eloquence, supplemented by Mind-Reading, and that was how he built his momentum! If I hadn't been keeping watch,