Old Yang Taizi was squatting on the ground, his eyes vacant—asking himself why this had happened.
He should have been holding a strong hand.
Look, the Huanzhen Dao mountain was actually quite close to the Forbidden City. Across all the Daoist and demon-clan territories in the Divine Land, which one was as close as his?
Although Huanzhen Dao was now a small sect—with only two people in the entire sect, counting his disciple Zhan'er—as the saying went, there were more monks than rice. These two master and disciple made up a sect, and one with its own mountain at that. Life there was exceedingly comfortable.
Besides, Yang Taizi knew his own situation. He had little talent for cultivation, and had only reached his current level by slowly enduring the years. Even with spiritual souls now recovering, Yang Taizi had made few breakthroughs. He would probably remain this way for the rest of his life.
Still, he was at least registered with the Daoist Association. He had a bit of fame among the wealthy business circles in the surrounding area. In his spare time, he could appear onstage for fashion shows or recite scriptures at banquets. The worldly money would naturally come pouring to him.
He had even saved up enough money long ago to spend lavishly during the final years when cultivation failed him, and, while he was at it, break the Virgin Cultivation Technique he had practiced for over a century. That way, he would not have lived in vain.
But why had things turned out like this?
*This old Daoist has always acted discreetly. I run if I can't win, only talk big and never fight, and I've never knocked on a widow's door in the middle of the night. I wholeheartedly pursue the Dao, living on plain