After leaving Baisha River, one man and one deer arrived at Qingzhou's Fanshu City.
The city was as bustling as ever, with streams of people moving to and fro.
Upon entering the city, Ning Daoran headed straight for the sword-casting shop.
A manager received them.
"May I ask, Senior, who you are looking for?" The manager, portly and clearly not a cultivator, noticed Ning Daoran's extraordinary demeanor and the sacred aura of the spiritual deer, understanding instantly that they were no ordinary individuals.
"I'm wondering, does the owner of this sword-casting shop still bear the surname Sang?"
"Oh no, not for ages~~~"
The manager whispered, "To tell you the truth, Senior, the current owner of this sword-casting shop has the surname Chen. I've been the manager here for twenty years and have never met anyone with the surname Sang. However, the old shopkeeper once mentioned that, about a century and a half ago, the owner of the shop was indeed surnamed Sang."
"Oh?"
