On that rainy night, Xu Ziqing, whose mentality had completely collapsed, hated that Storyteller more than anything.
"Damn old bastard!" The usually polite youth cursed inwardly.
The other party had given him hope, only to plunge him into despair. At the foot of Wumeng Mountain, burdened by a blood feud, he had seemed to go completely insane.
Hope was a slow-acting poison. The moment it was utterly dashed, it had a fatal effect.
Fortunately, Senior Brother had appeared like a savior and pulled him back.
Little Xu had never imagined that the Junior Uncle Ancestor he was meeting today would actually be him!
Before this, he had hated this man more than anything!
That was why a trace of anger had flashed through his eyes when their gazes met just now.
But Xu Ziqing was not a fool.
He quickly suppressed his emotions.
Moreover, the other party really was a member of the Dao Sect, and one with extremely senior standing at that. This made the whole matter seem even stranger.
Seeing him lost in thought, Zhao Shuqi hurriedly said, "Xu Ziqing, why aren't you paying your respects to the Junior Uncle Ancestor?"
The youth saluted. "This disciple pays his respects to the Junior Uncle Ancestor."
Jiang Zhi glanced at him.
Although Little Xu had tried his best to hide it, nothing escaped his eyes.
"Perhaps you think I played you?" he asked bluntly.
"This disciple wouldn't dare." Xu Ziqing answered.
The man who looked like a Storyteller felt somewhat speechless.
He had traveled the world after descending the mountain, and had finally found this Sword Attendant. He had even given him guidance. Yet in the end, the other party had still blamed him.
After thinking for a moment, Jiang Zhi said, "I did send someone to Wumeng Mountain to