Chapter 135 (1/2)

“Hmph! There you are,” Mr. Morgan said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. Come, duel me! No one ever beats me, Mr. Morgan, three times in a row!”

Grandpa Vremya shot a glance at Mr. Morgan. It was thanks to this man that he was able to attend this gathering. However, Grandpa Vremya just couldn’t bring himself to grant the man’s wish. Duels were pointless, especially ones against someone he had already defeated twice.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” Azalea said, saving the poor man’s face. If he had been ignored by the people he had invited, what would the rest of the cultivators at the gathering think about him. Speaking of which, the other cultivators in the gathering were quite haughty fellows, weren’t they? Most of them wore black robes and had bangs covering one of their eyes. None of them looked at anything in particular as if they were above making eye contact with anyone. “I’m Azalea, Elder Vremya’s lifelong companion.”

Mr. Morgan hesitated. Then, he shook Azalea’s offered hand. “Are you two acquainted with anyone here? If not, how about you sit by me?’ he asked, gesturing behind himself towards a table with four seats. There was a pot of tea placed on the center of the table.

Azalea turned her head towards Grandpa Vremya. He nodded. “Lead the way,” Azalea said. Once they were seated, Azalea swept her gaze over the room once more. She could sense people’s cultivation bases by the amount of spiritual energy they were giving off. However, there were a few people who she couldn’t sense at all. They were the soul-seed cultivators; though, they could’ve been mortals, but Azalea doubted they’d be allowed inside. There was one duo who caught Azalea’s attention. There was a young woman, who looked to be less than forty years old, and a young man was sitting beside her. He was in the nascent-soul stage. It wasn’t the fact that Azalea couldn’t judge the young woman’s cultivation base that drew her attention, it was because the woman was glaring daggers at Grandpa Vremya. She was like a polar bear that had spotted the CEO of a gas company; there was an irresolvable hatred between the two.

“Do you know Albert?” Mr. Morgan asked, leaning over to whisper in Grandpa Vremya’s ear.

Grandpa Vremya shook his head.

“Well, his cousin looks like she wants to kill you,” Mr. Morgan said. “If I were you, I’d watch out for Albert. There’s a high chance he’ll reach the soul-seed stage.”

Grandpa Vremya stared at Mr. Morgan without saying a word. The man’s face flushed as he remembered he, a soul-seed cultivator, had lost twice against Grandpa Vremya. Why would the old man have to worry about Albert? “What’d you do to get her upset anyway?” Mr. Morgan asked, brushing aside his blunder.

“She must’ve seen a video of me and instantly became jealous of my skills,” Grandpa Vremya said.

Albert’s mouth twitched. As a nascent-soul cultivator, his hearing was superb, and even though he was a few tables away from the two, he could still hear them loud and clear. Luckily, Patricia couldn’t. Who knew how she’d react upon hearing him? Although their family was somewhat influential, this was still a gathering of cultivators. A mortal wasn’t allowed to act up here. They wouldn’t kill her outright, but Albert could kiss his chances of getting the phoegon egg’s amniotic fluid goodbye.

“What exactly happens at this gathering?” Azalea asked. They had been invited, and from the little information Azalea could find on the internet, they had a rough idea of what the gathering entailed, but they had no idea about the specifics.

“It’s like a science conference,” Mr. Morgan said, “but the topic is about cultivation instead of formulas and technology. Cultivators challenge each other to duels to test new techniques they’ve created, or someone will display a new formation they developed. It’s all about enlightening others to help them while helping yourself at the same time.”