After accumulating knowledge and insight over countless years, Xuantian had decided to devote himself to alchemy this time.
He had long since brought his understanding of formations, artifacts, music, and other arts to the peak of Hunyuan. Alchemy, however, remained a weakness.
He looked at Wang Lin. Wang Lin's cultivation was nearing the late Nascent Soul stage, and he was in the midst of experiencing mortal life. He behaved much like an ordinary person. Though he remained wary of strangers, this was also when he was easiest to talk to.
"Brother Wang, if you don't mind, come have a meal with me. I make my own fruit wine at my little tavern. I wouldn't call it top-notch, but it's much better than what the big restaurants serve."
Calling someone "brother" was only a courtesy, but Xuantian had never believed that having a higher cultivation gave him the right to look down on anyone.
The Great Dao was boundless. No one knew what the future might bring.
When there was no conflict of interest, he was known throughout Hong Huang as an exceptionally good-natured man.
Wang Lin paused, seemingly surprised by the warmth of the invitation. He hesitated, but when he saw the sincerity in Xuantian's eyes, he nodded at last.
At the little tavern nearby, several homestyle dishes sat on the table. Seated around a small red-clay stove, Xuantian and Wang Lin drank the house-made fruit wine and watched snowflakes drift down onto the street outside. By tacit agreement, neither spoke. They simply ate, drank, and enjoyed the snowy scene.
Xuantian filled Wang Lin's cup from a pot of warm wine and said apologetically, "Sorry, Brother Wang. I'm not much of a talker by nature. Please forgive me if I haven't been a good host."
Wang Lin shook his head,