The owner of the roadside stall worked with swift, nimble hands, and in no time at all, he served up a bowl of simple, plain noodles.
Xuan Chanzi picked up his chopsticks, his voice booming like a great bell:
"Young friend, do not be alarmed. I simply feel we are fated to meet, and before leaving Beimang Ridge, I wanted to see you one last time."
Had anyone else said this, Jiang Yi would have scoffed internally.
'We've only met once and exchanged a few words. Why try to force a friendship?'
But the man before him was a remnant of the Zhongyi Sect—not a very pleasant title, to be sure.
Put another way, however, he was the sole living inheritor of a Grand Sect's Dharma Lineage!
The weight of that title was enough to crush half of Beimang Ridge!
"I am unworthy of forming a connection with an Upper Cultivator."
Jiang Yi lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling the Cat Master in his robes curl into a soft ball, as if it didn't want to be seen.
