Arriving at the Ancestral Court

Uncle Jiu's tone did not change. He cupped his hands and said:

"This Poor Daoist serves under Lingbao Tianzun, Maoshan's thirty-sixth-generation disciple, Lin Fengjiao."

He had deliberately said it this way because he wanted to test this beggar.

"Under Lingbao..." Cloud Daoist repeated in a low voice, his gaze lingering on Lin Yan for a moment.

That look pierced through the outer skin and saw something deeper.

He suddenly reached out and grabbed for Lin Yan's wrist.

The grab did not look fast, but though Lin Yan clearly saw it, his body had no time to react at all before his wrist was already caught.

The touch was icy, yet not the stiffness of a dead thing, but a warm, gentle coolness.

Uncle Jiu's expression changed, and he was just about to move.

But he saw that Cloud Daoist was merely holding Lin Yan's wrist. His thumb pressed lightly on Lin Yan's pulse gate, and then he let go.

A trace of realization appeared on his face, mixed, it seemed, with emotions of extreme complexity, and he muttered to himself in a low voice:

"I thought I'd seen wrong. So it really is you..."

His words were indistinct, and neither Lin Yan nor Uncle Jiu heard them clearly.

The next moment, Cloud Daoist reached into his robe, rummaged around for a long while, then pulled out a yellowed booklet with rough, frayed edges and casually slapped it into Lin Yan's hand.

"Meeting is fate. Take this. Perhaps it will be of some use to you."

Lin Yan lowered his head to look. The booklet's cover was completely blank. When he opened the first page, four ancient, forceful characters, as though containing some rhythm of the Great Dao, entered his eyes.

Yuqing Immortal Method.

He only felt a rush of pure