Zhang Tie had slept only a few hours the previous night.
It had already been five months since Huang Baimei, Leng Manxue, and the Liu brothers had come to visit the Dragon Emperor Pavilion.
The past half year had been almost the busiest period of Zhang Tie's life. During this time, aside from handling official affairs, he had been so busy that he had barely had any time left for cultivation.
Last night, in the Dragon Emperor Pavilion, he had received batch after batch of temple masters and divine generals who had come to Dragon Emperor City to report on their duties. He had worked until two in the morning before finally going to sleep.
Then, at around six this morning, before dawn had even broken, Zhang Tie was already up. After breakfast, he began handling official affairs in the Dragon Emperor Pavilion.
When ordinary people ate the same things, it was called having breakfast—fried dough sticks, rice porridge, noodles, steamed buns, all wolfed down in a sloppy rush. But when Zhang Tie ate, it was called taking the morning meal. The same porridge was transformed by the cooks into dozens of elaborate varieties; one person ate while a whole crowd waited upon him, every bit of it steeped in ceremony. Even if Zhang Tie felt it was unnecessary, he had no choice but to accept it, because this was the life of the Dragon Emperor. Since he had taken on this role, he naturally had to accept everything that came with it. Even if Zhang Tie wanted to keep things simpler, and even if he himself was willing, the many divine generals and believers of the Dragon Emperor Temple would not be. In the minds of those divine generals, the Dragon Emperor ought to be like this. If he