"Master," a white‑haired old man with keen eyes walked over. However, the white‑haired old man actually knelt before the middle‑aged man in white clothes.
"What is it?" The gray clothes on the middle‑aged man were a light color.
The white‑haired old man said, "Old Pu Xian has gone to the Tuoba."
"Oh?" The middle‑aged man in gray clothes was shocked. Because they were weary of the mundane fetters and deceptions of the mortal world, they were like‑minded people, and thus they were also a circle with deep friendship. In the hermit circle, Pu Xian was a friend of this middle‑aged man in gray. Strictly speaking, the two were rivals. They hid themselves away. No matter how Ren Zhuangsong invited them, they never set foot in the mortal world. Their only pursuit was a higher realm, a deeper comprehension of the Dao. Usually, only Pu Xian could compete with him and drink tea together.
The middle‑aged man in Tuoba gray clothes asked with a smile.
