Eighteen miles outside Qingfeng City, there is a high mountain called "Yunjiao".
There is a temple on the mountain that has been in disrepair for many years and is dilapidated.
The trail leading to the top of the mountain has long been covered with lush vegetation and densely covered with thorns, making it difficult for ordinary people to get down and find the road.
At this moment, in front of the overgrown mountain gate, a lean old man in a bright yellow Taoist robe was roasting a bird.
He was dressed very cleanly, and although his robe was old, it was spotless.
The skin is slightly darker and the face is clear.
There is a black mole the size of a soybean and several white hairs on the collapsed nose bridge.
It looks a little disgusting and makes people feel disgusted for no reason.
"Snapped."
Without firewood or charcoal, the bonfire burns out of thin air.
A green bamboo pole is strung with a plump and golden spiritual bird, which is rolling on a wooden stick with two forks, making a sizzling sound.
The old Taoist swallowed furiously, narrowed his eyes and said: "Black pimple, go and dig out a section of the lotus root in the lotus pond in the backyard."
"Don't eat it secretly. Clean it and bring it over."
"There are guests coming from far away. As the owners of Yunjiao Mountain, we should treat them well as a matter of fact and reason."
"Well, remember to boil a pot of water."
As he spoke, he waved his right hand, and two roughly made wooden chairs appeared.
One is on the left and one is on the right.
Seven or eight meters away, the immortal power flows in the middle, gradually forming a square transparent fog table.
"Not bad, not bad. There's meat, tea, and a place for you to sit. It's quite a generous deal."
"I have never experienced such luxury in the eight thousand years I have lived here in seclusion. Oops, I feel so bad, so painful."
Pretending to be pretentious, the old Taoist stood up and sat on the wooden chair he made with his own hands, stroking a handful of white hair on the black mole on the bridge of his nose and said: "Senior brother, you are the ancestor of Wen Palace after all, a peerless warrior in the seventh realm of true immortals.
Or, as for hiding one’s head and tail, hiding in the dark and peeping?”
"Junior brother, is it that I have bruises on my face, or are you getting uglier as you grow, so ugly that you can't see anyone?"
Unable to help but sneer, the old man glanced coldly at the void ahead.
At a glance, the mountains shook and birds and beasts chirped.
In the dark, it seems that a sharp sword has been unsheathed, and the world has been opened with one sword.
The silver light shines, and the sharpness is visible to the naked eye.
The next moment, the void completely shattered and was forcibly divided into two halves.
Amid the rioting power of the abyss, Duan Ziqian gave a high-five and walked out with light steps: "Junior brother, I haven't seen you in four thousand years. Your "reincarnation control technique" is really getting stronger and stronger."
"A cultivation level as strong as mine, at the seventh level of a semi-saint, cannot be hidden from your perception. You, no wonder my master praised you back then for your potential to become a saint, and that your talent is better than mine."
It shrunk to an inch and flew down.
Duan Ziqian sat unceremoniously on the wooden chair opposite the old road, crossed his legs contentedly and said, "What about the stupid donkey? Why haven't you seen it come out to make trouble today?"
The black mole old man twisted his stiff neck and said lazily: "I knew you were coming, so I asked him to dig lotus roots in the backyard."
"Here, the demon king of the thirteenth level of true immortal, the orthodox bloodline of the Qingque clan, is roasting for you over there."
"A piece of seventy-two-hole snow lotus root from three thousand years ago, paired with the wild camellia that I worked so hard to collect from the Zhansheng Valley. Senior brother, are you satisfied with this reception?"
Duan Ziqian laughed loudly, and his laughter echoed in the mountains: "How dare you be dissatisfied? I am extremely satisfied."
"Junior brother..."
He spoke in a protracted tone, rarely revealing a relaxed and gentle tone: "Come back with me."
"You should have broken through the realm long ago and surpassed the way of heaven, becoming the third powerful semi-saint in the immortal world."
"Why bother going your own way and wasting your time here?"
"Wen Dian, that is your home after all. It is the supreme inheritance bestowed by Master to my two brothers."
"This inheritance should not and cannot be borne by me alone."
"This is not fair. It is not fair to anyone. It is not what Master and the old man want to see."
His tone became serious, Duan Ziqian slowly suppressed the dazzling smile on his lips, his eyes were calm and he said: "Knowing his fate and entering the world, the ancestral dragon awakens, the dragon and phoenix reappear, and Jiang Lin'an inherits it."
"Junior brother, all the top ten top-quality dharma images on the Taixu Creation Monument have arrived in the fairy world."
"In the future, Wen Dian will never be able to rely on me alone."
"I need your help and the responsibilities you should shoulder."
The old man with black mole lowered his head and said nothing, his eyelids drooped, as if he was asleep.
