Eastern Region, Mysterious Truth Grotto-Heaven.
This place had originally been where the Tai'a Lineage cultivated, renowned for its tranquility.
Beyond the mountain gate stretched ten thousand miles of green pines, beneath a misty sea of clouds.
Immortal cranes flickered in and out of sight among the mountains, while the occasional mountain wind swept through the halls, stirring the bamboo grove into a rustling whisper.
But now, it had lost some of its former serenity and gained a measure of restlessness.
News of the Supreme Seat's disappearance had spread throughout the entire Mysterious Truth Grotto-Heaven.
Whether concealed or out in the open, the disciples all wore hurried expressions. Even the bells that had once sounded so leisurely now seemed a little more urgent.
Only one bamboo dwelling remained as languid as ever.
Wu Shisan lounged against a bamboo couch, his frame gaunt, his face unkempt, three thousand strands of white hair spilling over his shoulders.
He waved a battered palm-leaf fan in his hand, humming some vulgar folk ditty he had picked up somewhere. The tune was frivolous, and the lyrics even more too shameful to utter.
"Push hard, move slow... the little maiden's waist is soft as silk..."
"Master, you're singing that tasteless rubbish again."
Wang Ziyu jogged over with a bowl of medicine, set it on the table, and could not help frowning.
Wu Shisan rolled over and casually scratched his foot. "What the hell do you know... Forget it. Even if I explained it to a fledgling like you, you wouldn't understand..."
As he spoke, he reached for the medicine bowl, only for the young boy to slap his hand away.
"Don't pick at your feet before drinking medicine."
"Your master's feet don't stink. Here, smell them." The old Daoist thrust the hand that had just scratched his