The rain kept falling.
The atmosphere was not exactly harmonious.
Or rather, the harmony belonged to Chen Wei alone. Yang Jian was thoroughly displeased.
Under the torrential downpour, most of the hundred-foot Flour Mountain washed away with the rain.
The small portion that remained collapsed onto the ground, becoming a great puddle of sticky flour paste.
The Yellow-Brown Dog stood planted in the paste, wolfing down enormous mouthfuls.
An ordinary mortal dog, even after starving for three days and nights, could only fit so much into its stomach. What was it working so desperately for?
Nothing else-it desperately wanted to get ahead.
Although the Flour Mountain had no magic power reinforcing it, a Daluo Golden Immortal had conjured it. Its texture was rich and fine, with a natural sweet aftertaste. Washed by rain from the West Sea Dragon Clan, it melted in the mouth. The dog had never tasted anything so delicious in its life.
Besides, immortals were watching.
If it ate well enough, perhaps it could shed its monster form and attain immortality.
How could it not eat with all its might?
As it ate, it let out rumbling growls to guard its food.
When one person attained the Dao, even their chickens and dogs ascended to heaven. Today, this dog had eaten its way to understanding that saying.
Yang Jian's expression was dark.
He had no grounds to complain.
He had set the rule himself: the dog must lick away the Flour Mountain.
Now the dog was indeed licking, and the Flour Mountain was indeed gone.
As for whether the dog had licked the mountain away or the rain had washed it away, did it make a difference?
Results were what mattered.
As long as the books balanced, who cared what watery route you took along the way?