Time flashed past like a white steed glimpsed through a crack, and two years passed in the blink of an eye.
Not long ago, the Azure Tide Sect had finally finished rebuilding.
As the sect master of the Azure Tide Sect, Ning Fan naturally had to thank the sects that had helped.
And so, a banquet was arranged.
He and the elders had discussed and settled on holding it a month earlier.
The guests included not only several sects with which they had friendly relations, but also sects and factions from other continents.
The Ghost Market and Zen Sound Temple, for instance.
Given the long journey, many cultivators from other continents had set out early.
Some who arrived particularly early chose not to stay inside the Azure Tide Sect, instead taking lodgings in the small town at the foot of its mountain.
Perhaps because there were so many visitors, the market had been especially lively lately.
A man wearing a black cloak sat on a second-floor windowsill of an inn, gazing at the steady stream of pedestrians below with a heart full of reflections.
"Who would have thought that just two years ago, corpses littered this city and blood ran through it in rivers..."
"What? A demonic cultivator like you is getting sentimental? Your lot bore some responsibility for all this, you know. If not for your wolfish ambitions, you wouldn't have brought about the Demon Realm Descent and nearly destroyed the entire Azure Realm."
"Tsk, you're such a bore, dredging up old grievances out of nowhere." Yao Yan paused, as though something else had occurred to him, then continued, "Say, Yi Feng Chen, have you been a wandering ghost so long that you've forgotten you worked for demonic cultivators too? You were even a traitor to the Mystic Dharma