The white-robed man attacked without a second word, clearly furious from the embarrassment of his carelessness. It also proved he didn't recognize Gu Zhao and the others.
The old man in brocade relaxed, gathered his sleeves, took two steps back, and watched to see what would happen.
But when he saw Taoist Yan Song purse his lips and whistle up a great wind, the corner of his eye twitched. He carefully sized up the group. 'They aren't Ghost Gods. Are they Mages or Fairies?'
The wind Taoist Yan Song exhaled was imbued with Spiritual Qi. It acted like a sandblaster, grinding the ghostly mist to dust until it dissipated, unable to reform. With just two breaths, the mist inside and outside the ancestral hall was completely cleared away.
The white-robed man's expression changed. He finally spotted Bai Ke on the Silk Embroideress's shoulder. "It's you, you little fox?"
"It is me!" Bai Ke stuck her tongue out playfully. "Surprised? Shocked?"
