But soon, an almost instinctual, intense craving for food erupted from within, like two small burning suns.
The golden-robed youth sprang upright, his golden hair somewhat tousled. He looked around in a daze, his voice thick with nasal tone and a bit of urgency,
"Aunt, where's the feast? What kind is it, braised or steamed? Is it edible? Is it delicious?" Jin Peng eagerly fixed his gaze on the Vermilion Bird.
Vermilion Bird was silent.
On Yuan Huang's forehead, a few black lines emerged.
"Eat, eat, eat, all you know is to eat!"
A cool voice, laced with displeasure and a hint of admonishment, sounded beside the golden-robed youth.
A roughly ten-year-old youth clad in a pristine azure Daoist robe had, unbeknownst to them, turned around, frowning at him.
This youth in blue, with features as if painted, exuded a calmness and coolness disproportionate to his age, like the pure and aloof snow at the peak of a high mountain.
