Moonlit night vast and boundless, cold crows with no place to rest.
Uncle Xu, carrying a lantern, slowly strolled over, as if he were making night rounds in Pingjiang City.
Uncle Qin followed behind, his wide robe fluttering with the wind, his squinting gaze as bored as if he were at [Seventy-three Bookstore] in Peace Town.
However, at the moment everyone was in a trance, the two elders had already approached.
When their eyes fell on the little Taoist priest's apprentice, the casual indifference suddenly dissipated, and deep in their turbid pupils surged profound wariness and sharpness.
"Qin Fulong!"
"Xu Jiuchong!"
The Taoist priest's apprentice, with a solemn whisper, finally turned around.
Nowadays, these two names might seem extremely unfamiliar to the younger generation.
Yet among the older generation of strongmen, these names were like two monuments, already standing at the summit and absolutely dominating the world of cultivators.