Ning Xiangyi picked up the teacup beside him, but was in no hurry to drink. He merely skimmed the foam with its lid and asked casually, "From your dealings with him these past few days, what do you make of Guest Li's character?"
Ning Xiufu considered for a moment, then said, "He is quiet and cautious, like a long serpent. But he is a little too quiet."
"Oh? How so?"
"Whenever ancient texts mention cultivators of 'Li Thunder,' they invariably describe golden thunder and red flame accompanying them. Every movement raises a tremendous spectacle, their grandeur striking fear into anyone who sees them. But this Guest Li..."
He paused, as though weighing his words, then said, "Not only does Guest Li lack any trace of that imposing presence, he has an air of dark hidden reserve instead. Ordinary people often imagine what cultivators of the Ancient Era looked like and put those imaginings into paintings. Yang Bozhuo has taken in one such painter, and Guest Li very much resembles the ancient cultivators in those paintings."
"Plain, clean robes, a composed expression, and a sense of easy openness in his few words. If I had to make a comparison, he is not a magnificent thunderbolt, but a mass of brooding black clouds. Lightning lies hidden within, rumbling dully, yet no one knows when it will strike."
As Ning Xiangyi listened, his gaze sharpened slightly, settling on the lingering pensiveness between Ning Xiufu's brows. "Do you have some suspicion? Speak freely."
Ning Xiufu hesitated briefly, but still voiced his doubts. "Could this man... not be a cultivator of 'Li Thunder' at all?"
Ning Xiangyi raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
Ning Xiufu collected his thoughts. "According to the ancient texts, those who cultivate 'Li Thunder' must slay monsters and vanquish