What was said, equates to saying nothing.
Xu Xiaoshou's mind was slightly in chaos.
Over tens of thousands of years, he comprehended much, feeling that the latter half of Nu's words sounded familiar.
Had he heard it himself, or had he realized it himself?
Nu raised the roasted lamb leg high, and amidst the sizzling sound, golden grease trickled down from the slightly charred crispy skin.
For tens of thousands of years, he hadn't tasted meat.
At the sight, Xu Xiaoshou's mouth watered, and his stomach gurgled noisily.
He was not an ascetic cultivator.
In fact, he didn't really enjoy cultivation.
He liked eating meat and sleeping, and facing the roasted lamb leg across the river, he was practically drooling over it.
But he couldn't eat it.
