Qi Wuhuo recognized the fortune teller and was about to greet him.
But the fortune teller's eyes flew wide. A few days ago, he'd gotten thoroughly drunk. Afterward, for some reason, he'd felt that the next several days weren't suitable for going out. He'd stayed cooped up at home for days, until he finally couldn't stand it anymore. So he'd brought a pot of wine and gone out for a stroll, hoping to see what amusing things the mortal world had to offer. Then he'd heard someone say, "A monk has no regard for the laws of the land," and had exclaimed, "Well said!"
He'd been just about to enjoy the commotion.
Then he'd spotted someone familiar.
For some reason, his innate spirit had already warned him so forcefully that every hair on his body stood on end. He looked at the peacock that had just emerged. To the naked eye, it was a peacock, but his innate spirit seemed to see the Nine-headed Lion beneath the Great Unity Salvation Heavenly Venerate, the one that could eat anything. It looked different, but that aura—as if it were about to swallow everything whole—already bore the faintest resemblance.
His innate spirit nearly burst apart.
The fortune teller choked on his wine and blurted out, "You little ox-nose!"
But he instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth.
His innate spirit warned him.
He thought for three seconds.
Then he turned and ran for his life.
Qi Wuhuo: "???"
The young Daoist hadn't expected the fortune teller, whom he'd met several times and who had even helped him before, to turn and run just like that. He was puzzled, but his instinctive nature stirred with an urgent warning. The young Daoist stepped forward without thinking, drawing Primordial Qi to stir the wind. His sleeves