Little Xuanwu's face twitched as he looked at the still-burning incense burner and the fragrant air filling the room. He felt no enjoyment at all. Instead, he sighed in a thoroughly human fashion, then turned his gaze to Longyuan, now with a few traces of discontent.
However, as an attachment of the founding patriarch of the Spirit Research Society, Little Xuanwu had long known that this third-generation disciple of the Society, codenamed "Longyuan," might have a Tirillo's face, but had actually been raised by an East Asian family on Earth. His adoptive grandfather was the abbot of an old-fashioned Taoist temple, occasionally helping wealthy and powerful people calculate the feng shui of their homes, while his adoptive father ran a traditional Chinese ink painting studio. It was easy to imagine the kind of household he had grown up in.
So, despite looking like a typical Tirillo, at his core he was more Earthling than most Earthlings, doing things in a very traditional way and placing great importance on ceremony.
At that moment, Longyuan clasped his hands and bowed. "Thank you for your effort, martial uncle, in crossing the void realm with your supreme power. This disciple has, in the end, fulfilled his mission."
Little Xuanwu was Lan Jiufeng's contracted phantom beast, with a status much like the white crane attendant beside the Antarctic Immortal. It was perfectly reasonable for a third-generation disciple to address him as martial uncle. Even so, the young, highly intelligent phantom beast still broke out in goosebumps—though he had a coat of gorgeous scales and neither goose nor bumps—then grumpily held out his hand and rubbed his short little claws together.
Longyuan hurriedly opened a small box, pinched out three golden pellets, and offered them.
Little Xuanwu didn't even move his hand. He simply shot out