In the bustling Imperial City, people came and went in an endless stream.
Lu Xiaoran brought his two disciples to a corner of the Imperial City.
This was a small intersection. There were not many people, so it was still passable.
At the corner of the street, a one-legged beggar was sitting. He was wearing a tattered shirt. His dirty long hair was hanging on his face, making it difficult to see his appearance.
In the Imperial City, there were many such beggars. After all, some cultivators had their cultivation crippled from fights, so they could only live ignobly as beggars.
Even though this was only a small intersection, there were still several beggars sitting.
However, this beggar was clearly different from the other beggars.
He was not like other beggars who compromised and begged without caring about their dignity.
