Pei Yuhang noticed that Qing Yueqiu had been avoiding him for the past few days, which he found exceedingly strange.
For a moment, he wondered if he had inadvertently done something cringey, tarnishing his grand, masterly image in his eldest disciple's eyes...
'Sigh, my eldest disciple was always so easy to understand. Now her thoughts have become difficult to guess.'
Pei Yuhang sighed in sorrow, like an elder at his wits' end, trying and failing to bridge the generation gap with the youth in his family.
At the same time, he used his Divine Thought to levitate his toothbrush, maneuvering the jasmine-scented bristles between his lips and teeth.
A Cultivator's body was naturally pure, unlike a mortal's, which produced dirt and odors from metabolic impurities.
But maintaining his hygiene had become a habit for Pei Yuhang. Just as he enjoyed his tea, he found it pleasant to brush his teeth every morning and evening.
But...
