As he reached the end of his story, the old monk could not help cursing. Fang Chen froze again. This old monk was nothing like the monks he had imagined.
After cursing, the old monk sat down on a stone stool, planted one foot on it, and absentmindedly began picking at his toes.
Fang Chen frowned at the sight.
Seeing his expression, the old monk said, "Junior brother, what's that look for? Eat!"
Fang Chen shook his head. "Senior Brother, I'm... not hungry!"
"If you're not hungry, you can drink! I brewed this flower wine myself back in the day. It's delicious!"
As he spoke, the old monk used the hand that had been picking at his toes to push the wine jar toward Fang Chen.
Fang Chen smiled. "Thank you, Senior Brother, but I can't hold my liquor. Let's save it!"
The old monk's face immediately darkened. "What? Junior brother, are you refusing to give your senior brother face?"
Fang Chen frowned and glanced down at the Floating Immortal Sword in his hand.
At the sight, the old monk's expression softened at once. "Haha, junior brother, I was only joking!"
Then he tore a leg off a roast chicken on the table and began eating.
Fang Chen's eyes widened as he watched the old monk eat with relish. Hadn't the old monk just said he was a Remnant Soul? How was he eating now?
What was that supposed to mean? He said one thing and did another.
Fang Chen looked at him. "Senior Brother, didn't you say you were a Remnant Soul and couldn't eat?"
Still eating, the old monk replied, "You weren't eating, so I did. No sense letting it go to waste!"
The old monk had left Fang Chen thoroughly confused. Nothing on the table stirred his