"Hu Rong, do you have any money?" Michael asked with a soft smile—a stark contrast to his inner feelings.
"Yes, Master Mujin!" Hu Rong exclaimed, flipping his daoist robes inside out to reveal a hidden pocket.
He extended his hand confidently, reaching inside, but as moments passed and nothing emerged, his expression fell.
With a glum look, he turned toward Michael and bowed. "Master Mujin! It seems like someone has stripped me of my possessions!"
'Of course they did...' Michael facepalmed at his supposed disciple's carelessness before walking forward.
He had all the necessities to sleep outside; it did not really matter.
If anything, he could always form a small barrier, which would make it warm inside—not that he felt cold anyway.
The two were wandering about, with Hu Rong following him as though he was some kind of guard dog. It was a mystery if he was actually able to fight—Michael had not seen anything of the sort yet.
