Mei Meng gazed into the distance, toward the direction of the final battle.
[All right.]
Her answer was so soft that even a breeze brushing past her could have carried it away.
Once they had rested enough, Mei Meng swung onto the horse. She was still riding Qi Cang's warhorse, while Qi Cang himself made do on his own two legs. [I'm an old man, and a cripple to boot, yet I still have to lead a young person's horse. Don't you feel the least bit guilty?]
Mei Meng said, [Aren't you faster on foot?]
A Martial Gall Warrior didn't have to conjure only a single warhorse.
Qi Cang had offered up his horse of his own accord, so why should Mei Meng be polite? She had wanted to buy an old packhorse from the caravan, but Qi Cang had looked down on it, hadn't he? He'd even said that if he rode such a thing, he wouldn't reach his destination even in his next life.
He was the one who was picky, and he was the one who complained.
The only reason he'd lived to such an old age was that he was strong.
Otherwise, someone who couldn't stand him would have beaten him to death long ago.
Qi Cang said, [Hmph.]
While Mei Meng was distracted, he glanced back toward the teahouse from the corner of his eye without drawing attention to himself. Then he snorted again, and the two of them and the horse vanished at the end of the path. [We're so familiar with each other. Why not call me "Dad" and pay your respects?]
[Are you still dreaming?]
Why should she make herself a generation younger for no reason?
Besides, did she look like someone starved of a father's love?
Qi Cang clicked his tongue