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"I dare not claim credit, Elder, it was merely instinct." No longer a green youth, you understood that since the white-haired old woman was willing to meet you face-to-face, she wouldn't play underhanded tricks like Cen Jinghua did.
"What a pity, if only you were my grandson."
The white-haired old woman expressed her lament, her eyes also filled with a sense of regret for not being able to mold Cen Jinghua.
With an indifferent smile, you spoke in a very casual tone, "I'm just an ordinary person, not blessed with such fortune."
Since both parties had already made their identities clear, you didn't want to drag the conversation out any longer and got straight to the point, "Elder, may I ask if you truly know where Daoist Qingyun is?"
The white-haired old woman nodded, "After the incident that year, Qingyun sequestered himself deep in the mountains, unconcerned with worldly matters. It has been over thirty years since I last saw him."
"Then he…"