Yang Yong's brow stirred slightly.
"Not a weasel after all?"
He raised an eyebrow, somewhat disappointed.
Asking for a Title had been widely spoken of even before the apocalypse.
When the yellow weasels of the Northeast reached a certain stage of cultivation, they would ask a passerby, "Do I look like a human or a god to you?"
Answer wrong, and karmic consequences would entangle you.
Answer correctly, and the yellow weasel would borrow a breath of your human essence, greatly advancing its Daoist cultivation, while you formed a favorable karmic bond.
But now, an Asking for a Title had suddenly appeared in the fog on this wasteland. That was interesting.
Yang Yong's disappointment lasted only an instant.
Because the next moment, the Evil Eye in his brow snapped open.
In that instant, the world before him changed.
The dense fog was no longer fog, but a thin layer of flowing gray-white energy.
The enormous figure rapidly shrank and changed shape in the Evil Eye's vision...
Like a punctured balloon, it collapsed with a rush.
Those terrifying angles and twisted limbs all melted and peeled away like a sugar coating.
The true form of that "hodgepodge" creature was unmistakably a yellow weasel.
A tiny one, not much bigger than a cat.
It crouched in the fog not far in front of the Demoness Pickup Truck, its forepaws tucked against its chest and its tail nervously sweeping from side to side.
It tried... to make itself look tall and imposing, but it could not hide the guilty uncertainty in its beady black eyes.
Yang Yong suddenly found it rather funny.
"A little Yellow Immortal, daring to come to me Asking for a Title."
He slowly stood up. "You've got... quite some nerve."
The yellow weasel shuddered all over and turned to