Great Yong.
The Capital.
Flying Immortal Pavilion.
An autumn morning, the twilight dim and obscure.
Zhou Yi pushed aside the jade arm of his fellow Daoist Miao Xin, his figure flashed, ready to leave without making a sound.
"Daoist Zhu, are you really going to abandon me like this?"
Miao Xin's eyes were hazy, almost dripping with water when she spoke, appearing pitiful and endearing.
"Fellow Daoist, please retract your charming Divine Skills."
Zhou Yi pulled out a gold card from his sleeve and said, "I have settled the account. We owe nothing to each other. Don't talk about owing or abandoning!"
Miao Xin's eyes welled up with tears: "Indeed, a prominent disciple of the Three Teachings, a transmitter of the immortal way, naturally would not fancy my frail beauty..."
