"Master's been gone for days now. Why isn't he back yet?"
At the western expedition's camp, with the sun already high in the sky, Lamborghini yawned as he got up to relieve himself. Facing west, a rare shadow of worry rose on his bovine face.
Ever since Qin He had suddenly ridden the clouds and driven the mist westward, Lamborghini had been shrouded in a thick sense of crisis.
That damned turtle's words had been unpleasant, but the reasoning was sound.
Before, wherever Master went, Lamborghini had carried him there. The farther they went, the harder he had to work.
But this time was bad. Master could fly on his own now.
No matter how fast his four hooves ran, they could never outrun someone who could fly.
"Psssss—"
With a sigh, Lamborghini stood up and relieved himself. Having held it in all night, his stream shot more than a zhang away.
Yet at that moment, a thin stream shot out from beside him. Its landing point was level with Lamborghini's, then slowly began extending farther ahead.
Lamborghini turned his head and saw that Wang Tie Zhu had somehow appeared behind him, whistling as he walked.
Lamborghini narrowed his bull eyes slightly, sank his qi into his dantian, and his stream immediately surpassed Wang Tie Zhu's.
Wang Tie Zhu hurried a few steps forward until he was level with Lamborghini, then overtook him again.
After several rounds of this, Lamborghini's belly was empty, and he conceded defeat, grumbling, "Using that much force so early in the morning—aren't you afraid you'll piss blood?"
"You're jealous." Wang Tie Zhu lifted his chin.
"Jealous of you? Jealous of what, that yours is thin?" Lamborghini snapped back without mercy.
"Jealous that mine goes farther." Wang Tie Zhu still wore that infuriatingly smug expression.
Lamborghini