Yan Rufeng's lips curled into a smile. "You should worry about yourselves instead. Don't say I didn't warn you, when you cross the bridge and see Meng Po, make sure you don't drink her soup."
"Tch!"
Old Yan scoffed: "Who would drink that stuff? Brothers, follow me and let's smash her soup pot..."
The Eight Ghosts reached the Meng Po Pavilion in an instant, but they didn't see the legendary Meng Po, only the pot brewing the Meng Po Soup, emitting wisps of steam.
Old Yan ordered: "Brothers, get to work..."
Suddenly, a tinkle of laughter echoed.
"Hehe..."
"It's been a long time since any ghosts came by. Tell me, how did you all die?"
The Eight Ghosts were taken aback. "Who?"
"Who else but the widely adored, irresistibly charming Meng Xiaopo, Sister Meng, whose one glance can make gods across the universe swoon!"
"Pfft..."
Fat Ghost Old Yan couldn't hold back his laughter. "Isn't she just the legendary Meng Po, an old granny claiming she's prettier than flowers!"
