Getting the Hang of It

The next day, before dawn.

In the small courtyard behind the Moon Concealment Sect, Nangong Wan stood by the window, her gaze repeatedly sweeping over the stone path leading down the mountain.

The morning mist was like a damp rag, slowly wiping over the Bluestone Slabs, yet it could not wipe away Fang Tie Zhu's foolish-looking figure that carried a hint of wickedness.

"Strange."

Her fingertips unconsciously tapped against the window, making faint tapping sounds.

He said he would come early. Where was he?

As soon as the thought arose, her heart inexplicably clenched.

That boy's severed arm wound looked downright sinister. Those dark green corrosion marks were enough to make one nauseous just from their smell.

Frowning, she was about to summon a trusted disciple to look for him, or perhaps simply... Hm?

From the shadows at the base of the courtyard wall, a head stealthily poked out, looking left and right like a weasel preparing to steal chickens.

"Fang Tie Zhu!"

Nangong Wan's voice was not loud, yet it carried the piercing force unique to a Core Formation Cultivator, striking that head with pinpoint accuracy.

The head shrank back. Then, a dirty-faced figure with an empty sleeve slowly shuffled out, wearing the awkward grin of someone caught red-handed. "Heh heh, Elder, you... you're up so early?"

Nangong Wan ignored his clumsy greeting and looked him over. Other than being even dirtier, he did not seem to have any new injuries.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "It's practically midday! Are you a turtle? Even crawling, you should have made it here by now!"

Fang Yu rolled his eyes inwardly. I don't have a job. Why should I get up so early?

He instinctively wanted to reply that waking up naturally was a basic human right, but when he saw Nangong