This was the only possible explanation Master Green Feather could think of at that moment.
He remembered what had happened not long ago.
Anxious and uneasy, he had once confided everything to the statue of the Immortal Ancestor he worshipped: what had happened, and all his worries and concerns.
And then he had received a response.
The Ancestor's reply had been domineering.
A few words had appeared in the curling incense smoke:
"The Mist Moon Immortal Palace is a bunch of jumping clowns. Pay them no mind."
At the time, he had felt much more at ease. But when he thought about it afterward, he had still been uneasy.
He didn't know whether the Ancestor's promise could be trusted. After all, he had never met the old immortal in person. The Ancestor had shown a few miracles, but the claim that he was an immortal was still just speculation.
But now...
Master Green Feather wanted nothing more than to return to his cave abode, throw himself before the statue he worshipped, and knock his head against the floor again and again.
Then he would slap himself hard across the face a few times.
He deserved it.
He had been blind enough to look down on the Ancestor and doubt his promise.
The old man was unquestionably an immortal.
Otherwise, how could he have made the Mist Moon Palace Master apologize and admit fault so obediently?
But even after he understood that much,
he still couldn't help feeling utterly perplexed.
As the saying went, a scholar would rather be killed than humiliated.
The Mist Moon Palace Master was, after all, the head of a sect and a Mahayana elder. She was also said to care deeply about her reputation. If the Ancestor really was a True Immortal, it wouldn't be difficult