Far away.
A man who was inscribing characters paused his brush slightly. A glimmer flashed through his eyes as he casually glanced toward the Dao platform. "Senior Sister, there is no need to be so pessimistic."
"Junior Brother!" That junior sister shot the man an irritated look.
A ten-thousand-year-old bastard turtle, the Immortal Dao's greatest old loafer. He toyed with words and ink, chased moonlit romances, frequented pleasure houses to hear songs—there was not one bit of mischief this old rascal had missed. Back then, he had nearly angered their master into a qi deviation.
Especially during the Prodigy Battle of the Three Thousand Immortal Domains, when all under heaven watched, this old rascal could get beaten until he wailed for his father and mother, losing himself so thoroughly that those peerless prodigies were left utterly bewildered. They had even thought some minor cultivator from the Immortal Realm had fallen through a spatial rift and stumbled onto the battlefield by mistake.
Hearing this, helplessness flickered across Lang Feng's face.
It was not as though she had never imagined that her junior brother was hiding his strength, concealing himself amid the city, playing the pig to eat the tiger, then revealing some earth-shaking move beneath the gaze of the masses. She, too, had once held such expectations.
But she had simply overthought it all.
Her junior brother was absolutely not the sort to play the pig and eat the tiger. He played the pig to eat feed; he was mud that could not be plastered onto a wall. If the Immortal Realm's environment had not been so favorable, and if the Immortal Dao he inherited had not been so exceptional, he would have long since died in meditation in some little tavern on a Barren Mountain, heaven knew where.
The fact