Searching for the blood cave

A team of unknown black birds flew past the window in a single file, their calls clear and lingering, soon flying from this floating mountain to another, the artistic conception full of a detached-from-the-world flavor.

Inside the window, incense smoke curled in wisps and tea steam rose in streams.

A faint zither sound drifted from some disciple's residence, adding a bit more elegance to the current scene.

With a thud, An Yang placed a bronze incense burner beside the low table, removed the lid to replace it with a fresh section of incense, and put the lid back on.

He picked up a cracked-porcelain tea pitcher from the side, poured light-blue tea more than halfway into the two cups in front of him, made a gesture of invitation, and looked forward with a smile.

"Have a sip."

Sitting opposite him was Dan Chenzi in black, still carrying those blade-like wings, with his cloak draped over his back, looking ready for battle at any moment and maintaining a completely expressionless face.

Dan Chenzi glanced at the tea in front of him. The surface of the tea was still giving off faint white smoke, accompanied by a lingering tea fragrance, and it seemed one could even smell the spiritual energy that could relax one's pores.

So he picked up the tea cup, took a light sniff, then blew away the hot steam at the rim of the cup, and with the orchid-like clear fragrance, he swallowed this extremely gentle cup of spiritual tea into his mouth like drawing a breath.

"Ah! Good tea!" Dan Chenzi smacked his lips, exhaled a puff of hot steam, and set the cup on the table. "I thought I was someone who didn't understand tea, and we cultivators of Shu Mountain don't need to bother with such