Meng Lengyu led Song Wen to a wooden table and sat down with him.
"Fellow Daoist Gou Jun, my son is fond of alchemy, but his talent for it is mediocre. Sorry for the trouble he has caused you."
Meng Lengyu's words were courteous, but the frost on her face seemed as though it would never thaw, even after ten thousand years.
"You are too kind, Fellow Daoist Meng," Song Wen said. "Young Fellow Daoist Meng has exceptional cultivation talent and acts cautiously. With your careful guidance as well, I believe that, given time, he will surely distinguish himself among the young cultivators of the Sea of Disorder and bring honor to the sect."
"You flatter him. Cao'er is stubborn and obsessed with alchemy. He wastes a great deal of time refining pills, which does nothing to benefit his cultivation." Meng Lengyu's words were not merely polite modesty; she meant them sincerely.
At that moment, Meng Cao suddenly interrupted.
"Mother, how can you belittle me like that?"
Meng Lengyu turned and swept a cold gaze over him.
"Get out! Fellow Daoist Gou Jun and I are speaking. Who gave you leave to interrupt?"
"Fine, I'll go!" Meng Cao muttered as he walked out.
Meng Lengyu watched her son's retreating figure, her eyes holding both affection and worry.
Once Meng Cao had left the secret chamber and its stone door had closed, Meng Lengyu returned to her earlier chilly demeanor.
Seeing this, Song Wen inwardly reflected that this woman was truly difficult to approach.
He took the initiative to start a conversation.
"I have known Young Fellow Daoist Meng for a month now. He has mentioned you several times, but never his father. May I ask who your husband is?"
"His father is dead," Meng Lengyu said.
"My condolences," Song Wen