Liu Mingyuan and Lin Xiaoman stood together, facing Shen Jinghan, Su Yanzhi, and the others.
Though they stood so close, it felt as if an invisible chasm lay between them.
No matter what their identities had once been, they now had only one: cultivators.
Of everyone present, Shen Jinghan and Su Yanzhi were the most discomposed.
Before this, not to mention a child like Lin Xiaoman, born into abject poverty—even a wealthy merchant's son like Liu Mingyuan was beneath their notice. Deep down, they had looked down on them with contempt.
Yet now, the radiance emanating from Lin Xiaoman alone made them dare not meet her eyes.
"Someone of such birth, from such a family, actually produced a Spiritual Root?"
"How should we treat these two now?"
"Offering charcoal in the snow is far more important than adding flowers to brocade!"
Zhao Hu's gaze shifted back and forth between Liu Mingyuan and Lin Xiaoman. At last, as if he had made up his mind, his eyes settled completely on the frail figure.
The others, too, had all sorts of strange thoughts running through their minds.
Xu Changqing took out two spirit talismans that could both sense danger and protect their bearer, handing one to each of the two beside him. He instructed, "People from the Immortal Sect will soon come to take you away. Cherish the last time you have with your families."
The moment he finished speaking, Liu Mingyuan eagerly tucked the spirit talisman into his clothes.
Lin Xiaoman remained frozen where she stood. Only when the talisman gave off a cool aura that seeped through her rough palm and into her flesh did she finally believe this was not an illusion.
Yesterday, she had still been worrying herself sick over the money for her mother's medicine. Who would