August 9, early morning.
The Imperial Capital, Transportation Hub.
A young Daoist in a moon-white Daoist robe, his neat Daoist bun perched atop his head.
A small indigo cloth bag embroidered with a Yin-Yang Tai Chi symbol hung diagonally from his shoulder as he sauntered out of the station exit.
His face was as handsome as carved jade, his brows and eyes full of feeling, his figure tall and straight. He truly had an air of an immortal about him.
It was just that his peach-blossom eyes were darting about nonstop.
Whenever a pretty female traveler glanced his way, he immediately adjusted his posture—sometimes lightly stroking his sleeve, sometimes raising his chin slightly—to strike a suave and debonair pose.
He looked as though he might ascend to immortality on feathered wings the very next moment, yet somehow still carried that enticing air of the mortal world.
Quite a few female travelers covered their lips and giggled at his appearance. He did not mind in the slightest; instead, he grew even more smug.
It was not until his gaze caught sight of a towering figure standing like an iron pagoda outside the station exit that the young Daoist reined himself in somewhat.
He was a young man with bronze-colored skin and firm, resolute features.
His long black hair was tied behind his head with a simple cloth band. His eyes were sharp, and his entire person exuded a solemn air that warned others to keep their distance.
The young Daoist's eyes lit up. He hurried over and unceremoniously thumped the other's solid chest with a fist, producing a muffled thud.
"Whoa there, Little Nezha! We haven't seen each other in a few days, and you've gotten even sturdier! You came all this way to receive your Martial Granduncle? Not bad, not