A mountain need not be high; if an immortal dwells there, it has spirit.
Zhongli Yue's Daoist grounds were on Taoyuan Mountain, and Taoyuan Mountain sat amid countless lofty peaks and steep ridges. Compared with the towering mountains around it, it was just like a little child.
The mountain was not high, only a little over three hundred zhang, but its spiritual energy was extraordinarily dense.
Taoyuan Mountain was Zhongli Yue's Daoist grounds, yet it was not purely a Daoist ground, because it was also the headquarters of Wanbao Trading Company in the Wanhua Mountain Range and the Wanhua Western Regions.
Thus, at the foot of Taoyuan Mountain, there was also a marketplace of no small scale.
Yang Zhengshan came out of the Great Void and landed on the summit of Taoyuan Mountain, before an antique, richly charming bamboo building.
Looking down at the marketplace below, then at the verdant mountains in the distance, he felt quite the shock of being within the mountains and unable to see their whole appearance.
"Come over and have tea!" Zhongli Yue came out of the bamboo building, sat beside a stone table beneath a pine tree, and called to him.
Yang Zhengshan turned to look and saw the man had clear, sparse brows and eyes, his sleeves hanging down like drifting clouds. He had just seated himself before the stone table; the hand holding the pot had distinct knuckles, and as boiling water was poured in, fine white steam gathered at the spout. When it washed over the silver needles in the tea tray, his fingertips merely turned lightly, and he skimmed away the floating foam.
When the tea fragrance rose, he happened to tip the fairness cup and pour out amber tea liquor. There was not the slightest haste or slowness in