Outside the glazed windows of the Spirit Monkey Tavern, exotic maple trees diffused a warm, soft light in the night, their leaves transitioning from golden yellow to brilliant red, adding a touch of early autumn ambiance. Si Yeli caught sight of the silhouette by the window. Her slender hand covered her red lips, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
She had guessed, but seeing that person still felt surreal. She instantly made her judgment. It had to be Zheng Guang.
Though his appearance had changed somewhat from before, that familiar aura was unmistakable. Immediately, she rushed over with quick steps. Yan Chuan, clad in a black robe, was the young Ancestral Master of the Netherworld Dao Arena and carried a mysterious presence.
A faint nether mist drifted around him, as if connecting to the depths of the nine hells. He stood a full two heads taller than most people, his thick, ink-black hair lightly stirred by the night breeze, his deep eyes like abyssal seas. By nature, he was reserved and rather quiet.
Throughout the journey, he remained silent. Duan Yin and Xu Yuan regarded him with some reverence, keeping silence alongside him the entire way. At the Spirit Monkey Tavern, business was unprecedentedly good today; there was not a single empty seat.