Meng Hao gaped. This was the second time Chen Fan had brought up the matter. Meng Hao had a strange feeling about this trip to the Song Clan.
Time passed, and soon a beam of light appeared in the sky, a few dozen meters wide. In an instant, it had reached them, and an old man appeared, wearing a voluminous Daoist robe. His face was ruddy, and he had a full head of long, white hair. He carried a gourd of alcohol in his hand, and strapped to his back was a huge pitch-black sword.