The old man found himself comparing Little Bull to the disciples within the Heavenly Stream Guardian Sect.
Many of them were excellent disciples. Some were even considered prodigies. Yet he could already imagine their reactions if they were in this situation.
They would ask about immortal arts.
About sects.
About treasures.
About opportunities.
Little Bull, meanwhile, was staring at clouds. "That one looks like a pig."
He Jian followed the direction he pointed.
The old man actually saw it.
A cloud shaped vaguely like a pig.
A laugh escaped him.
Little Bull pointed elsewhere.
"That one looks like a chicken."
"You have quite the imagination." The Old man said with a smile.
The young man scratched his head.
"What's imagination?"
He Jian stared for a moment, then sighed.
"Never mind."
The flight continued while Little Bull kept pointing at random things.
The forests.
The mountains.
The rivers.
Every new sight earned a reaction.
