"What do you plan to do?"
Sitting cross-legged on the bluestone, the unmovable Ci Yuan opened his eyes and looked at the scholar in green next to him, speaking slowly:
"Anfeng hasn't returned to Shaolin Temple for cultivation these days, training daily with your Qing Taoqi. It's clear that he is truly earnest and concerned about this matter."
"He lost his mother at a young age; to him, the three words 'Divine Martial Mansion' probably carry extraordinary significance and are not merely a simple matter of identity."
The scholar said indifferently:
"I know."
Ci Yuan said calmly:
"So, you know, yet you still want to do it that way?"
Mr. Ying replied coolly, "Half a month ago, I had already asked him. It was his own choice, no matter the outcome. He can't blame anyone else."
"What, do you, Ci Yuan, have any better ideas?"
"Feel free to speak your mind."
Ci Yuan chanted a Buddhist mantra, then said evenly:
"There is nothing inappropriate in what the gentleman has said."
