The mornings on Yingzhou Immortal Island had an indescribable flavor.
The sea mist had just dispersed, and dew still hung from the tips of the spirit plants lining the mountain path, glittering in the sunlight.
That day, Song Yan planned to take his leave of Penglai.
Shen Er came to see him off in person, which left Song Yan feeling rather apologetic.
After all, the man was the leader of a sect, a great cultivator in the Spirit Transformation Realm.
He himself was merely a Golden Core junior. How could he possibly warrant a personal send-off from a sect leader?
But Shen Er clearly cared little for such things.
He walked beside Song Yan with his hands behind his back, genuine gratitude on his face.
"Young friend Song, you deserve much of the credit for giving Penglai hope of returning to its homeland."
Although the Immortal Continent had seen daylight again, it would still be some time before the Daoist Sect could move back to Penglai's old site in full.
The halls needed rebuilding, the restrictions needed laying anew, and the scattered remains of disciples across the two continents needed to be gathered and buried one by one.
Still, Penglai had already made its decision.
Once the reconstruction was complete, Penglai would announce its return to the world.
According to Shen Er, that would happen within the next two years.
As they talked, Shen Er seemed to remember something. He reached into his sleeve, took out an object, and handed it over.
It was a whistle.
Ancient and simple in design, it looked like aged wood and yet like jade, its entire surface suffused with a faint blue-white sheen.
"Keep this."
Shen Er said, "It is no extraordinary law treasure. But if you encounter danger and need Penglai's help, simply