"You're talking to me?"
Yingzi had no idea who this "Immortal" was that the short, fat old man kept mentioning. There was no one else around.
The two long whiskers by his mouth trembled wildly as the short, fat old man cupped his hands and bowed again.
"This Minor God is truly not a Ghostly Entity, but the Lake God. You are Feng Ying of the Feng Family from North Mountain Small Fishing Village. The Immortal Arts you cultivate, Righteous Aura, are unfathomably profound. You are worthy of being called an Immortal."
"Wait a second..."
Feng Ying scratched her head, utterly bewildered.
What Immortal Arts? When had she ever cultivated immortality? Immortals could summon wind and rain, conjure whatever they wanted to eat, live better than the clan chief's family in town, turn stones into gold and have money they could never spend, and even tread upon white clouds to fly through the sky. How could her family, poor as this, count as cultivating Immortal Arts?
Pointing her woodcutter's knife at the short, fat old man, the wild girl's temper flared.
"Get over here! Don't think you can fool me with that nonsense! Get over here and let me chop you once!"
The short, fat old man was rendered speechless by the scolding and hurriedly took another step back.
He lamented how violently temperamental she was. After explaining for so long, not a word had gone into her head. She was either throwing bamboo spears or brandishing a blade to chop people. Those who cultivated orthodox Immortal Arts were far too hot-tempered.
"Heroine, heroine, please calm your anger. Could you listen to my explanation? This Minor God came to beg you for help..."
He looked pitifully humble.
Seeing how polite he was, Feng Ying instead felt embarrassed to keep acting