That young Interception Sect disciple wore a professional, apologetic expression.
His voice was filled with a "kind" reminder.
"Fellow Daoist, look, this newly released Interview Guidebook..."
"Would you... like a copy too?"
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
The air solidified.
The wind stopped.
Even the tides of the East Sea seemed to pause for a moment at this earth-shattering question.
Jiang Ziya's mind went blank.
He felt as though his primordial spirit were a stone statue weathered for countless ages, dust sifting down from it.
He saw the faces of the independent cultivators around him.
Every face was filled with shock and bewilderment, followed by twisted mouths that they could no longer stop from curling upward wildly.
He saw Maitreya of the Western Sect. Even that eternally smiling, plump face of his looked rather comical from excessive surprise.
He even saw Zhao Gongming, who was maintaining order, instinctively cover his mouth.
It was over.
Chan Sect's dignity—all the dignity it had accumulated since the founding of the Three Realms—
At this moment, those words had thoroughly ripped it off, thrown it to the ground, and stomped on it more than three hundred times.
Guangchengzi stood there.
He did not move.
The smile on his face—that smile shattering inch by inch—seemed to have its fragments frozen in the air.
After a long while.
He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.
That breath was long and white, carrying the chill of Kunlun Mountain's summit.
Then he smiled.
He looked at that young Interception Sect disciple and actually smiled.
That smile was calm and gentle, even carrying a trace of an elder's... benevolent affection for a junior.
"Yes."
He said only one word.
The young disciple was stunned.
All the cultivators around them who had been waiting to watch the