In the blink of an eye, half a year passed.
Zhou Yi was thriving in the Scripture Hall, mingling seamlessly with the disciples.
After all, who could say no to a cultivator who lectured so brilliantly, was gentle by nature, and even possessed rare collector's edition storybooks?
On this day, after the lecture ended,
the disciples in the hall bowed in thanks, quietly waiting for the esteemed cultivator to take his leave before dispersing.
Zhou Yi did not return to Hundred Flowers Valley, but instead turned toward a side hall, and before long, more than ten disciples arrived one after another.
"Greetings, Master Zhou."
"No need for such formality."
Zhou Yi waved his hand to let everyone take their seats, and produced a century-old Soul Soothing Intoxication: "Yan brat, why are you sitting there so steadily? Come pour the wine."
