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Qinglin's resurrection was a rare joy for everyone from Earth's cultivation world.
Huai Jing immediately arranged a lavish feast, stacking jugs of wine into a small hill. The group welcomed Qinglin back with hearty toasts, each drinking freely and without restraint.
Qinglin watched the gathering with a gentle smile. He avoided asking about matters that could touch on personal secrets, such as the increasingly extraordinary Buddhist aura surrounding Huai Jing, or Wang Sheng's cultivation, which had already surpassed the others by a wide margin.
He seemed like an outsider. Although everyone kept raising cups to him, he never truly blended into the lively banquet.
When Huai Jing and the others were thoroughly drunk, Mu Wanxuan and Fan Tuantuan began cleaning up the mess. Yaoyun shrank into a tiny three-cun fairy and stood on Mu Wanxuan's shoulder, playing with the bird beside her.
Typical artifact spirits.
"Fei Yu, come walk with me in the back," Qinglin said.
"Mm." Wang Sheng forced the drunken haze out of his mind. Still, as he stood up, he hiccuped a little.
Watching the two men head toward the rear courtyard, Fan Tuantuan muttered, "I feel like that grandmaster from the Shu Sword Sect doesn't...
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