Leaving Dream Hall, Zhu Minglang walked alone in the forest.
By now, it was already the afternoon, and the thin silver sunlight scattered through the dense foliage, spottily illuminating Zhu Minglang's figure.
Passing through the woods, he returned to the somewhat murky river.
Zhu Minglang glanced at this muddy river, vaguely feeling that the riverbed was sedimented with many impurities.
Just then, Zhu Minglang heard footsteps.
From the direction of the woods, an elderly man carrying a bamboo basket approached, gasping for air. Upon seeing Zhu Minglang, his eyes lit up.
"Old man, why haven't you gone home yet?" Zhu Minglang asked.
"Immortal, this is the best Lingzhi Mushroom I gathered today. I'm giving it to you. I can tell you've been busy with Hong Mo's matters lately; your complexion looks a bit off. Take it home to replenish your vitality," the elderly man said.
