But that face was extremely familiar to him.
Sage Hermit, Xiu · Kenselder!
Ling Yu's mind buzzed, as if ten thousand bees were swirling around his ears.
He suddenly recalled that a few days ago Ning Ruo had complained to him about a red-haired flamboyant punk who parked randomly.
He had joked that if the hair color were changed to mist blue, he would have thought it was the Hermit himself.
Ling Yu stared at that tuft of red hair, his spirit collapsing instantly.
It was actually the Hermit?!
The Sage revered as a deity in the City of the World, how could he befriend Ying Zijin and Fu Yunshen, two mortal beings, laughing and chatting?
This was completely beyond Ling Yu's comprehension.
The lifetimes of the twenty-two Sages were too long.
To them, the fleeting decades of ordinary humans were but a drop in the ocean.
"Lord Hermit!" Ling Yu was petrified, teeth chattering, frantically kowtowing, "Lord Hermit, spare me, spare me!"
