"Junior Brother! What are you spacing out for? Hurry up, Master's annual lecture on the Dao is about to start! Do you want to improve your cultivation or not?"
Jiang Ze dimly heard someone calling out. Fragments of memories surfaced, and he shook his head to clear it.
Only then did he realize he stood among a vast cluster of towers soaring into the clouds. Mist wreathed the surroundings, lending the place an ethereal, otherworldly air.
"Huh? Oh... oh! Coming, coming!"
His previous experiences helped him react quickly. As he watched the man in long Daoist robes urging him along, the words "Third Senior Brother" automatically surfaced in his mind.
Before long, he followed the man into a magnificent pavilion. A broad practice ground occupied its center, already packed with seated cultivators.
Though the two of them arrived a little late, there were still seats reserved for them in the front row.
For no other reason than that they were Master's direct disciples.
"First Senior Brother! Second Senior Brother!"
The two young men sitting in the front row with their eyes closed slowly opened them. Both had thick brows, large eyes, and upright, righteous faces.
"Junior Brothers, any later and Master would have punished you."
Third Senior Brother grinned. "But we made it, didn't we?"
"Junior Brother, it's only been a few months since you became Master's disciple. This is a rare opportunity, so listen carefully!"
Jiang Ze nodded distractedly and craned his neck to look at the raised platform ahead. A meditation cushion sat quietly upon it, but Master had yet to arrive.
But he could tell without even thinking that it would be Meng Zhiyuan! Fine, fine, fine. So his role outranks mine every single time, huh?
Dong... dong... dong...
The deep, lingering toll of an ancient bell