In the back garden, everyone had expected a world-shaking commotion, but instead, the scene turned out to be remarkably harmonious.
Ye Chen and Zhenyuanzi, one old and one young, sat cross-legged on the fallen Ginseng Fruit Tree. The years-long ban on alcohol at Wuzhuang Temple lay forgotten in the main hall, while Great Immortal Zhenyuan hugged a jug of strong liquor and gulped it down.
"Hahaha! You old geezer, after all these years, you can still hold your liquor. I bet you've turned everyone at Wuzhuang Temple into a drinker, too."
Watching Great Immortal Zhenyuan gulp down the wine, Yao Yun burst out laughing.
"Heh, no. I imposed a ban on alcohol in the temple. Anyone who drinks will be punished according to the rules." Wiping the wine from his mouth, Great Immortal Zhenyuan replied nonchalantly.
"Tsk, you old man. Try acting like a decent person for once. You drink all you want, but you won't let your disciples have a single drop. After all these years, you're still the same stubborn old coot."
"How many years has it been since we last met?" Yao Yun picked up the Wine Gourd, took a small sip, and spoke slowly.
"I'm not sure. A few thousand years, maybe?"
"Yeah, a few thousand years." For a moment, Yao Yun gazed at the scene before him, lost in thought.
Back then, he'd arrived at Wuzhuang Temple by sheer accident, his body brimming with Demonic Qi. Just as he was about to start smashing things, Zhenyuanzi appeared. The old man had greeted him without a word—with a swish of his horsetail whisk.
Only after fighting him for hundreds of rounds did Yao Yun learn that
this was a Taoist temple, not some monastery.
As the saying went, there was no knowing someone until you'd fought