The strange old man Feng Qingyang's intentions were something Annie neither knew nor wanted to know.
After all, she'd forgotten about it by the next day. She hadn't taken him or the bet he'd made without her consent to heart at all.
And that was hardly surprising!
After all, in Annie's eyes, sword techniques, Feng Qingyang, and bets were all far less interesting than roast suckling pig.
That roast suckling pig had been so fragrant, and it was completely wild, untouched by additives or growth hormones. Then the Huashan Sect's chef had worked his magic on it and roasted it in an oven over fine charcoal. The flavor had been absolutely divine—far more enticing than some rotten old man or sword techniques.
Unfortunately, one small wild boar had only been enough for a single meal. So the next afternoon, after getting up and eating her fill, Annie had nothing to do and simply went down the mountain to wander around the nearest town.
The town lay at the northern foot of Mount Hua. Its name was quite ordinary—something like "Qingping," apparently named for its location on a gently sloping green hillside.
It was only about twenty-odd li from the Huashan Sect, which wasn't far. But to an ordinary person who couldn't use lightness skills, twenty-odd li of rugged mountain road was practically an impassable chasm. Climbing the mountain would probably take at least a whole day, wouldn't it?
Luckily, the townsfolk didn't go up the mountain unless they had a reason.
Although the Huashan Sect's founder had come from the Quanzhen tradition, the sect itself wasn't a Taoist temple. It was a martial arts sect rooted in Taoist thought, combining the worldly nature of a martial arts school with the inheritance of Taoist culture. It was absolutely not a proper