"The Daoist predecessors thirty years ago, even the strong ones can be counted, but there was no one who traveled outside to do this kind of thing," Yan Feiqing handed over a piece of paper, "I wrote down the names, see for yourself."
Pei Ye lowered his eyes to look. Thirty years ago, among the Seven Daoist Schools, Shengxiao was weak, and counting the heads and elders of the other six schools, including those retired, there were only twenty to thirty people in total. There were no unfamiliar names.
He nodded and put it away, "Let's leave it at that for now—let's eat fish."
The steaming mandarin fish was served. Each person got a piece of fish belly. The light rain outside, the warmth on the table, there was no more comfortable and pleasant afternoon than this.
"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"
"At 5:00 AM." Yan Feiqing replied.
"Then go by yourself, no one will get up to see you off."
Yang Zhenbing nodded in agreement.
