Qianyuan Mountain, Golden Light Cave.
Taiyi cleared out the largest stone chamber in the cave abode, laid down a straw mat, set up a wooden bed, and placed an oil lamp beside it.
Nezha stood at the door, raised his eyes, and carefully surveyed the entire stone chamber.
"Is this all?"
Taiyi dusted off his hands, straightened his round belly, and looked utterly justified.
"What did cultivators need so many worldly possessions for?"
"Then why are there five Storage Bags hanging from your waist?"
Nezha's gaze fell on Taiyi's waist. The five bulging bags swayed with his movements like a cluster of ripe grapes.
Taiyi choked.
"...Those are Master's family assets! How could I just throw them away?"
As he spoke, he reached out and pressed the outermost bag, afraid that this unruly little disciple might reach in and rummage through it.
Nezha raised an eyebrow but did not expose him. He simply stepped into the stone chamber and sat down on the wooden bed.
The straw mat had not been laid evenly enough. Several stalks poked out from the edge and pricked the back of his hand, making it itch.
He lowered his head to look at them and flicked one with his fingertips.
"Master."
"Hmm?"
"Give me a Daoist Name."
Taiyi stood at the doorway and froze at those words.
The flesh on his round face bunched up, and three creases formed between his brows. If he gave Ling Zhuzi, his Junior Brother, a Daoist Name himself, would Saint Nuwa blame him when he returned?
"Don't you already have a name?"
"I do."
Nezha lifted a hand and pointed at the tip of his nose.
"But that is the name they gave me."
"I want—"
He paused, recalling the disgusted expressions of the people at Chentang Pass whenever