Chen Yi sneered and said, "Are you Murong Fu?"
"Murong Fu?" Consort Dong was taken aback; it was clear she had never heard the name before. She blinked, "Who is Murong Fu?"
"A person from the Northern Song, a martial arts expert," Chen Yi glanced at the distant, roiling Golden Dragon and replied casually, "He was also something of a descendant of the imperial family, obsessed with the cause of restoring his country until his death."
"Which country did he try to restore?"
"Yan Country. It's probably been about six or seven hundred years since the Northern Song fell."
Consort Dong stumbled; if not for Chen Yi's quick reflexes in grabbing her shoulder, she would have nearly fallen off the edge of the rock she was standing on.
She steadied herself, patted her chest, and then raised her hand to touch her head. Then, she looked up at Chen Yi, the hint of humor on her face fading, and said somewhat irritably:
"I'm not that stupid.
