The breeze was gentle and the sun bright, the sky clear and the air fresh.
The sun warmed the blue stone paving along the streets. Children chased butterflies past alley mouths, carriages rolled slowly along with copper bells chiming softly, and pedestrians came and went at an unhurried pace.
"What a splendid cityscape! I can't help wanting to compose a poem..."
The doors of the [Eastern Sunken Pavilion] stood wide open.
Inside, a young man in a Confucian Robe had forgone a stool and sprawled lazily on the counter without a shred of decorum. Turning to look at the peaceful scene outside in Heaven-Reaching City, he sighed with feeling.
The next moment, as though he had heard something, the young man suddenly frowned. He sprang off the counter with a kip-up and landed firmly on the floor.
"Why has that brat Zhang Yuan taken the initiative to visit my [Eastern Sunken Pavilion]?"
Holding a folding fan, the young man tapped it against his palm and paced around the pavilion, lost in thought.
"No one visits a temple without a reason, especially not that born-evil little devil. If he's come of his own accord, there's probably trouble brewing... but what trouble could someone at the celestial mid-stage bring?"
Utterly puzzled, the young man considered it a little longer before sharply slapping his fan against his palm and declaring with certainty:
"Damn it, Zhang Yuan must be plotting against me! No, I have to think of something. First, I need to find out what that little devil intends to do."
Although he still had no idea what had happened, and a celestial mid-stage Zhang Yuan plotting against a Golden Core True Lord was a fool's dream, his knowledge of Zhang Yuan told him there might well be some evil scheme afoot.
Shoot