Asking Dao City as Clearly as the Lines on My Palm
Asking Dao City.
Inside a Tea House.
Most of the cultivators in the city had already gone near Azure Cloud Platform to watch the excitement.
The Tea House, too, seemed cold and deserted.
A middle-aged man with frost-white temples sat alone in a corner, with a pot of tea and a plate of fruit on the table.
The middle-aged man lightly touched the tea with his fingertips and wrote something on the tabletop.
The Tea House owner was an old man with a face full of bitter sorrow. He sat alone in the northwest corner of the Tea House, dozing.
This Tea House was quite famous.
It was said that it had existed since the earliest age of chaos.
Through the rise and fall of the world and the passing of years, the owner of the Tea House had always been that old man.
Everyone in the city called him the Immortal Old Man.
From afar came the commotion near Azure Cloud Platform, making this Tea House seem all the more deserted by contrast.
The middle-aged man with frost-white temples suddenly sighed. "I never expected this."
What had he not expected?
He did not say.
The Tea House owner, the Immortal Old Man, who had been dozing, seemed not to hear him. His eyes remained shut, his bearing heavy with drowsiness.
The middle-aged man lifted the teapot and poured himself a cup.
Just as he was about to set down the pot, someone held out an empty teacup before it.
"Pour me a cup as well."
A young man in blue robes appeared out of thin air in the seat opposite the middle-aged man. It was as though he had always been sitting there, leisurely extending his teacup.
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