Qingyi listened with interest to the conversation between the pilot and the space traffic controller.
Honestly, he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed.
When one's cultivation reached a certain height, one simply forgot about the mundane matters common among mortals.
The four Celestial Emperors accompanying him, for example, would never come into direct contact with such a low-level space traffic controller.
They were true deities. The controller, however valuable he might be to society, was ultimately nothing more than an ant.
They existed on completely different planes, and the common rules governing the lives of mortals and lower-level cultivators simply did not apply to them.
As soon as they approached a city, beings of similar power would rush out to greet them, and it would fall on those beings to take care of everything.
