Dan Xin froze for a moment, then reached out her fair little hand and pressed it against Meng Zhao's forehead.
"You're not sick either. Why are you having such fantasies? Do you really think you'll obtain the inheritance of the Peacock King Sutra this time?"
Meng Zhao was speechless. In truth, the entire Feather Clan held a deeply pessimistic view of this trip to Little Cold Mountain Temple to compete for the Peacock King Sutra's inheritance. They did not believe they would receive the inheritance, yet they still had to do everything in their power to fight for it.
How should he put it? If they tried their hardest, they might still have one or two chances in ten. But if they did not try, they would not even have a single chance.
This was more or less a shared understanding among the Feather Clan's younger generation, though quite a few of them likely still clung to their fantasies.
What youth had not dreamed a Sweet Dream of becoming a savior, praised by the entire world?
In Dan Xin's eyes, Dan Qing was showing signs of exactly that. He was far too idealistic and did not consider matters realistically at all.
Meng Zhao was speechless. This little girl of the Feather Clan was really something. Fine, she could talk—but why did she have to put her hands on him too? Did she really think Meng was made of clay?
Still, there was nothing he could do. Since he was playing Dan Qing, it was understandable that he had to suffer a little grievance. He could not reveal his true identity just because the little girl had been rude.
He ignored Dan Xin and simply gave the reason he had prepared beforehand.
"Don't worry. Even if I gain nothing at Little