A pot of aged wine, two plates of simple dishes.
The bright moon and cool breeze hung overhead, with bamboo groves flanking them on either side.
Only the music of strings and pipes, and beauties as lovely as paintings, were missing.
Zhang Yang and Mu Shaoan sat facing each other across the table, their expressions calm and their bearing composed. From a distance, they truly looked like two enlightened grandmasters.
In reality, they had just finished a twelve-shichen-long exchange of mutual abuse.
"I refuse to accept this!"
After gulping down a mouthful of aged wine, Mu Shaoan sighed. "You obtained this unit of Ancient Law far too easily. If this is how it works, then I dare bet that in the Third and Fourth Sequences, Ancient Gods will be as common as cattle."
"Easy?"
Zhang Yang grabbed a handful of five-spice spiritual-plant peanuts. Chewing them noisily, he smiled with carefree serenity. "Stop whining. Who told you to insist on shouldering justice and smashing boulders against your chest? If you hadn't insisted on taking every responsibility onto your own shoulders, why would you have collided head-on with that Third Generation Insecticide? With your strength, wherever you went, sooner or later you would have become a genuine Ancient God. Don't tell me you don't understand what an Ancient God is. In my view, there's nothing mysterious about it. It's simply having enough Ancient Law accumulated in your hands—complete enough, pure enough, and abundant enough. That, damn it, is an Ancient God."
"If life has no aspirations at all, then how is it different from being a salted fish? Should I learn from you, Pit King Zhang Yang?" Mu Shaoan said disdainfully.
"So what if I'm Pit King Zhang Yang? At the very least, after digging pits all the way to the present,