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“Mr. Yu, we’ve arrived.”
“Many thanks, sir.” Yu Jianbai’s face was full of emotion. “One day of riding a crane and crossing a thousand layers of mountains and rivers is more thrilling than the first fifty years I spent thinking myself lofty and refined, chasing the elegance of the Immortal Dao in vain.”
“…” Song You only smiled without replying.
If Yu Jianbai had said that a single day in the skies was more wonderful than the last eighteen years of his life, Song You would likely have disagreed. But since he was speaking only of the first half of his life, well, each person had their own views on such matters, and Song You made no comment. Instead, he cupped his hands and said, “Mr. Yu, take care.”
Hearing this, Yu Jianbai quickly returned the salute. “You too, sir, take care.”
Compared to the Daoist, his tone was much more solemn.
All his life until now, he had been only a mortal, and naturally had no clear idea what Song You had been doing these past years, or what ambitions he harbored. But he could vaguely sense it was no ordinary matter.
It involved ancient deities, and even the Celestial Emperor had personally intervened, how could that be a trivial affair?
Since ancient times, when have great undertakings ever been easily accomplished?
But he was only a newly dead ghost, with neither cultivation nor power. Even if he took up his post as a Palace Lord in the underworld,...
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