Ever since Annie had slapped that lame Daoist flying, he hadn't dared show his face again or return to Rongguo Mansion to ask for the Mirror of Romance and Illusion. Annie had assumed he'd realized he was outmatched and wouldn't come back.
But who could have guessed... that very day, while Annie was eating and drinking at a rather elegant restaurant in the Food Ward of the Divine Capital, the lame Daoist she'd slapped flying would come looking for her again?
Well, would you look at that?
In a private room on the second floor of the restaurant, overlooking the street, Annie was enjoying a feast of delicacies. While she ate with gusto, a furtive figure had been loitering in the corridor outside for nearly the time it took to burn a stick of incense.
He was a strange little old Daoist, dressed in a tattered robe. His hair and beard were gray and unkempt, and his topknot was held together with nothing but a wooden hairpin. He looked completely disheveled, like some sort of madman, wrapped in ragged clothes and straw sandals.
In short, he looked utterly shabby—just like a beggar who'd crawled out of a pile of other beggars to ask for alms.
For nearly half an hour, he'd been cowering behind a pillar in the corridor, occasionally peeking half his head around it to look into her private room. His eyes kept darting about. He seemed to want to come in, but didn't quite dare.
And who was he? None other than the lame Daoist Annie had slapped flying before. Naturally, she recognized him.
After all, he was someone she'd slapped flying without killing. That was just enough to make him worth remembering to the mighty immortal Annie.
"..."
Of course, she only remembered him. Nothing more.