The river divided the wilderness into two worlds. The young Daoist sat on the opposite bank, while Jing Jiu and Xilai stood on this side.
A short walk behind the mountain from South Pine Pavilion brought one to a small building, where portraits of the Green Mountain Sect's past Sect Masters and certain elders of special significance hung. Jing Jiu had seen those portraits and remembered what his great-grandmaster looked like. He had also met him in the game a few days earlier, and in the Modern Art Museum at the Capital Planet's South Pole. Compared with General Li in his military uniform, this Young Daoist in Daoist robes looked more like the great-grandmaster in his memory, making the feeling all the stranger.
He disliked the red Daoist robes the other man wore, even though he knew they were probably a reflection of that red cloak and had nothing to do with his Senior Brother.
Likewise, he disliked what the other man had said-you should not have come here.
Perhaps because his Patriarch, True Person Daoyuan, and his Master, True Person Chen Zhou, had died when he was very young, no one had ever kept Jingyang in line. He was therefore deeply unaccustomed to anyone speaking to him with an elder's air, even if that person was his great-grandmaster.
Xilai seemed to be in an even worse mood than he was, and disliked those words even more. This was the most secret, most central part of his Spiritual World. If Jing Jiu should not have come, what right did that Young Daoist have to remain here?
"Although I didn't believe him, I did examine my own divine soul carefully, many times. Why did I never find you?"
That Young Daoist was a strand of divine soul General Li had left