Not long after Song Changsheng left, a white-haired old man strolled leisurely out of the dense forest.
The old man had a youthful face despite his white hair. He wore a patched-up gray robe and looked quite sloppy, his hair a disheveled mess. If not for the ancient Long Sword slung across his back, he would be indistinguishable from a seventy-year-old beggar on the street.
Zhu Yiqun's eyes widened, and he exclaimed in pleasant surprise, "Old man, when did you get here?"
Moo Zhexian scratched his temple and chuckled. "I arrived back when that kid was dealing with the Blood Demon in Luoxia City."
"What? So you just stood there and watched? You wretched old geezer, can't you be a little more reliable?" Zhu Yiqun grumbled in dissatisfaction.
"Heh, you little rascal, still got the nerve to complain. Hurry up and get your things, you're coming back with me."
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