They rose upon the wind and traveled through the air.
With that little interlude over, there was little reason to linger here. Jiang Yang followed Chu Qingjian back, returning all the way to Fushu Peak.
Along the way, the two privately agreed to spar every few days whenever they were free. These would not be reckless brawls, nor would they fight too often, leaving themselves time to test and verify their cultivation.
Once they returned, Jiang Yang intended to head up the mountain to pay his respects to his master. Upon hearing this, Chu Qingjian said she would go too, and the two flew down into the mountains together.
After a few steps, Jiang Yang was just about to bow in greeting when he saw Chu Qingjian stride straight over without ceremony.
Xuan Guang had clearly known of their arrival long before. He said directly:
"No need for formalities. Come and sit."
"Yes."
Jiang Yang answered, walked slowly forward, and obediently took a seat.
Chu Qingjian waved away the maid Wei Rui, who had been about to approach, then picked up the jade pot herself with practiced ease and poured two cups. She pushed one toward Jiang Yang, raised the other, and drained it in a single gulp.
There was something of a bold drinker's swagger in her manner. Setting down the cup, she smacked her lips and shook her head.
"Bland. Not satisfying at all."
Xuan Guang shook his head helplessly. To avoid stifling this disciple's nature, he had always let her run free with her wild temperament. As a result, she feared him the least of all his disciples.
Even his eldest disciple, Zhi Yu, who had already reached the Purple Mansion, remained thoroughly respectful before him. Among all his disciples, only Chu Qingjian could be so carefree.