Song Ci felt that his life had become clear and transparent, and his life had turned into a puddle of mud.
What is mud? It's the kind that can't be held up against a wall.
At the outer gate of the Wanjian Sect, at the Miscellaneous Peak, in the pile of firewood behind the kitchen, Song Ci was lying on his back with a piece of dogtail grass in his mouth, and his eyes were half-open and half-closed, like an old cat basking in the sun.
"Senior Brother Song! Senior Brother Song! Something big has happened!"
