"Why not join me over here?" one guest at the table shouted, "Shopkeeper, come, bring it here to me!"
"Exactly!" another guest echoed, swaying slightly, "Waiter, bring it over!"
"It's the Daoist's dish." The shopkeeper hurriedly shook his head, lowering his voice as he spoke, "Did you not see earlier? It's a corpse-driving Daoist.
All these dishes are his."
"Daoist?"
"Corpse-driving?"
The two, hearing these words, sobered up a bit.
Perhaps it was the autumn wind blowing outside, even the warming effect of the alcohol couldn't stop the chill from creeping up their spines.
After that, they remained silent.
'Has he left?'
Zhang Feng, after pondering for a few moments, decided to pursue.
Judging by the lack of Spiritual Qi on that Daoist, there shouldn't be a problem.
Otherwise, once this chance slips by, who knows when they might encounter these people again.
"Shopkeeper, I'm stepping out for some air."
