"Oh, Senior Brother Sylra, you’re finally awake!" Blake grinned.

"Wait just a little longer. I’ll be able to catch all the fish in this lake right away."

"This way, later when you want to eat fish, you can just eat them as you please. Without having to strenuously catch them one by one from the lake!"

"Ball-fucking-shit!" Sylra almost fainted from anger, cursing and swearing.

"These fish are all raised by me! Fishing is nothing more than to relieve boredom!"

"You’ve fucking electrocuted them all to death. How am I supposed to fish in the future?!"

"Ah? This, this..." Blake instantly froze, standing in the lake somewhat at a loss.

"This... I didn’t know that."

"How about I put all these fish back for you?"

Sylra stepped forward and took a glance, his face instantly turned blacker than charcoal, inside the two large bamboo baskets, several hundred fish had all been electrocuted stiff, dead beyond dead.

Some of them had their fish skin electrocuted so black it was even giving off a roasted fragrance.

What the fuck is the use of putting them back?

Sylra took a deep breath, barely squeezing out an amiable smile. "Blake, are you so idle you have nothing better to do?"

"No." Blake shook his head and smiled.

"I specifically came here today purely to show filial piety to you, Senior Brother Sylra!"

"I fucking thank you." Sylra gritted his teeth.

"Take all these fish you electrocuted to death and salt them for me to dry into salted fish."

"If even a single one goes rotten and stinks, I will stuff it into your mouth!"

Saying this, Sylra flicked his sleeves and turned to leave angrily.

Just as he was about to walk out of the woods, he suddenly smelled the scent of burning paper.

A bad premonition instantly arose in his heart, following the scent, he walked to the edge of the woods.

Seeing the scene before him, he almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

At the edge of the woods stood a stone stele, with a broken sword planted in front of it. It was the tomb of Sylra’s Master, the Venerable Cloud Sword.

At this very moment, Aerin was actually kneeling in front of the stone stele, draped in mourning clothes.

A fire brazier was lit in front of him, holding a thick stack of paper money in his hands, he was throwing it into the fire while crying loudly.

"Master Cloud Sword, this junior misses you. Misses you so much I cannot sleep at night or eat in peace!"

"This little bit of money is a small token of my respect. Use it to buy some wine to drink over there!"

"Master Cloud Sword, this junior will kowtow to you again. Please accept it, old sir!"

Watching Aerin put down the paper money and start kowtowing loudly toward the tomb, Sylra’s expression became even more complicated, he stepped forward with his hands behind his back.

"Junior Brother Aerin, what are you doing?"

"Senior Brother Sylra, you’re finally awake." Aerin wiped his tears and choked out, "I dreamed of Master Cloud Sword last night."

"I specifically came today to burn some paper money for our Master."

"...What?" Sylra froze, doubting if there was a problem with his ears.

He carefully looked Aerin up and down again, seeing him draped in mourning clothes, crying as tragically as if he had lost his own parents, Sylra was so angry he actually laughed.

"No, wait, Aerin, are you crazy?"

"Venerable Cloud Sword is my Master, not your Master, alright?"

"Your Master, the old Venerable Blazing Flame, is still perfectly alive and well! Whose funeral are you crying for?!"

Unexpectedly, hearing this, Aerin immediately shook his head with righteous indignation. "Senior Brother Sylra, your words are incorrect!"

"Venerable Cloud Sword was the head of the previous generation’s Ten Great Elders of the Divine Blade. He is an old senior of our Divine Blade Sect!"

"Even if I am not his disciple, I am still his martial nephew. What is wrong with burning a little paper money and kowtowing a few times for the old man?"

Sylra said helplessly, "The problem is, I, the authentic disciple, haven’t even said anything, yet you’re here crying and burning things. Is that appropriate?"

"Furthermore, it’s still way too early for the Festival. What kind of trick are you playing?"

"Senior Brother Sylra, for you to say such words is truly too heartless. Can we only burn paper money during the Festival?" Aerin said indignantly.

"Last night, I dreamed of Master Cloud Sword staying all alone in the underworld. Without food to eat or water to drink. He couldn’t even afford to smoke the dry pipe tobacco he loved most when he was alive!"

"That is why I specifically went out early this morning to buy paper money to burn for the old man!"

"Tell me, the old man lived a poor and destitute life. Now that he has passed on, shouldn’t we as juniors show a little filial piety?"

"Master Cloud Sword, Aerin will kowtow to you two more times. Please accept it, old sir..."

Seeing Aerin kneeling on the ground, about to start kowtowing again, the corner of Sylra’s mouth twitched. He directly strode forward, grabbed him by the shoulder, and hauled him up.

"Aerin, can you stop messing around?"

"Senior Brother, you don’t need to be too moved." Aerin wiped his tears, choking out, "Master Cloud Sword is our shared senior. This is what I ought to do..."

"Do my fucking ass!" Sylra was so angry he directly cursed.

"Let me tell you one more time. Venerable Cloud Sword is my Master, not yours!"

"If you truly have too many tears and nowhere to shed them, wait until your own Master dies and then take your time crying!"

"Senior Brother Sylra, you... what are you getting angry for?" Seeing Sylra fly into a rage, Aerin laughed awkwardly.

"I was just showing filial piety toward Master Cloud Sword, which is why I..."

"Filial my fucking ass, get lost!" Sylra swung the iron crutch in his hand, directly smacking Aerin flying away just like hitting a golf ball.

He turned his head to look at the paper money and incense ash scattered all over the ground in front of the grave, so angry he blew his beard and glared his eyes.

"Motherfuckers, what kind of tricks are these three bastards playing?"