Chapter 2002

With Mu Wanzheng's arrival, the banquet officially began.

Although they had invited Mu Wanzheng to help, they couldn't just start ordering her around right away.

As the mistress of the Flying Horse Pasture, Shang Xiuxun didn't need to indulge in social niceties with her subordinates, but she regularly dealt with major clans and powers.

In matters of interpersonal conduct, she naturally had no flaws.

Emotions require constant contact to thrive.

She didn't believe in that nonsense about "gentlemen's friendship being as plain as water."

Gentlemen?

How many true gentlemen could you find even if you searched the entire world?

Ordinary people are the overwhelming majority in this world; you can hold yourself to the gentleman's way, but applying it to how you treat others? That's a problem.

A gentleman is an anomaly among people.

"The food here is quite good too, Sister Shang," Mu Wanzheng smiled. "No wonder you're the food connoisseur in the original story."

Shang Xiuxun's expression changed slightly: "Don't say 'food connoisseur' anymore—I haven't been able to look at that word the same way since I heard Sister Su mention 'food connoisseur number eight.'"

Mu Wanzheng burst into laughter, suddenly realizing.

Indeed, that term isn't a good one in chat groups anymore.

Just thinking about someone doing that kind of thing made Mu Wanzheng find it bizarre.

Wan Wan listened, utterly confused; though she understood every word, together they made no sense—as if they weren't even in the same dimension.

After the meal.

Mu Wanzheng said: "Let's handle the main matter first. After we slay the Black Dragon, we'll talk about other things."

Shang Xiuxun nodded: "Alright."

She had no objections whatsoever—after all, that was tens of thousands of points.

Speaking thus, the two launched themselves into the sky using their true qi.

Even Wan Wan was carried along by Shang Xiuxun, flying beside her.

As they flew, Mu Wanzheng scanned the heavens and earth with her spiritual sense, searching for traces of the Black Dragon.

Mount Zhongnan.

Emperor's Stepping Peak.

Cihang Pure Studio.

The earth suddenly shook violently; thunder roared beneath the ground, mountains cracked open, boulders slid down, causing a horrific disaster.

Though Cihang Pure Studio was the foremost white-path sect in the Tang world and immensely powerful, it still had many ordinary disciples with low cultivation bases.

This cataclysm of quaking earth and collapsing heavens immediately swallowed some low-level disciples into fissures and crushed others into pulp beneath falling boulders.

Several figures soared upward like birds across the sky, their toes tapping flying rocks for leverage, leaping hundreds of meters away to land on an open patch of ground, staring in horror at the earth's transformation.

Fan Qinghui gazed grimly at the Cihang Pure Studio being swallowed by the gaping chasm beneath, her fists clenched, her heart bleeding.

This was centuries of effort poured into Cihang Pure Studio.

My home lies within these mountains, lost in deep clouds.

A once-pristine cultivation sanctuary would now become a phantom.

The Tang world had Xiantian and Master-level cultivators who drew energy from the outside; Cihang Pure Studio's location was never chosen lightly.

Mount Zhongnan was said to be the ancient Kunlun.

Emperor's Stepping Peak was one of the most vital spots on this mountain, with spiritual energy far denser than elsewhere—this was one of the foundations upon which Cihang Pure Studio held sway over the world.

But now the earth veins were shattered, the spiritual energy began to fade; within moments, the spiritual energy here became no different from any other place.

A perfect spiritual land had been destroyed in an instant.

How could Fan Qinghui not be heartbroken?

"Master, the younger sisters are all gone!"

Shi Feixuan looked behind her—only six or seven remained in her group—and felt a deep sense of loss.