Sword Sect.
In a remote corner of the inner sect stood a simple little courtyard enclosed by a fence.
A brightly feathered rooster held its head high as it paced back and forth along the edge of the fence.
Farther inside, an utterly ordinary-looking, white-haired old man reclined in a bamboo chair beside a wooden table, with a little yellow dog lying at his feet.
There were also several unfinished bamboo cages, winnowing baskets, and other such items.
It was Min.
He held a phone in his hand and, like any ordinary elderly man, slowly tapped at the screen with a single finger.
After quite some time, a trace of conflict appeared on his face.
Sigh~
With a sigh, Min closed the chat app, turned off the screen, and put away his phone.
"What a sin..." he could not help muttering again.
He reached for an unfinished bamboo basket beside him and resumed weaving.
These fellow Daoists from the Central Continent...
They truly were impossible to fathom.
Come to think of it, if not for what the Demon Race had done back then, Confusion's way of handling things probably would not have become as extreme and unruly as it was now.
As he thought about the past, his dry, wrinkled hands never stopped moving. Before long, he had woven an exquisitely shaped bamboo basket.
The sunlight spilling down from the horizon had now taken on a hint of oppressive heat.
Setting down the bamboo basket, Min picked up the large white tea mug on the wooden table, lifted its lid, and took a sip.
He looked into the distance.
By the reckoning of time, that child should be arriving soon...
Just as he thought this, before Min could even set down his tea mug, a figure appeared outside the little