Just then, a cultivator in a blue robe and a low black cap came flying toward Mo Chen, crying and shouting.
As luck would have it, Mo Chen had been about to head in his direction.
They were heading straight toward each other, making an encounter unavoidable and giving Mo Chen a slight headache.
Mo Chen changed direction, but the blue-robed cultivator followed suit.
Is this guy sick in the head?
Whichever way I go, he follows. He's probably looking for trouble.
Wary of the man, Mo Chen braced himself and flew over.
Mo Chen's expression had already made his feelings plain.
Don't fucking talk to me.
But things rarely went as one wished. The cultivator rushed over, blocking Mo Chen with one hand while the other steadied his black cap, which was about to fall off.
"Fellow Daoist, please wait! Do me a favor. I really had no other choice but to seek help everywhere!"
Mo Chen looked him up and down.
The cultivator had a weathered face with deep creases beside his nose and mouth. Half his face was smiling while the other half was crying, making him look extraordinarily bizarre.
As he spoke, he pressed a hand over his black cap again, seemingly afraid that something beneath it would fall out.
"Help? With what? I have urgent business. Why not wait and ask someone else?"
Everything about this man seemed strange to Mo Chen, forcing him to raise his guard to the utmost.
Out here, with neither a village ahead nor an inn behind, a cultivator had suddenly appeared wailing to heaven and beating the earth. Nothing about it sounded good.
"I have urgent business to attend to. You should wait for someone else, Fellow Daoist."
"This is a matter of grave importance! All eight members of