'But sect laws mean nothing to me,' the Ice Demon's inner voice purred with dark devotion. 'He can be a Martial Uncle to the world. But to me... he will always be my Young Master.'
***
High above the clouds, on a peak that smelled permanently of fermented rice and wild mountain herbs, Lin Ji'an was unceremoniously dumped onto a patch of overgrown grass.
She groaned, sitting up and rubbing her tailbone.
"Welcome home, kid," Jiu Zui slurred, collapsing onto a nearby hammock strung between two massive, ancient peach trees. He immediately took another swig from his gourd. "The kitchen is over there. It's been more than a few centuries since someone used it last; it's a mess. Go fix it if you want to use it."
Ji'an looked around. The Drunken Peak wasn't a majestic palace like the Eternal Cloud Peak. It was a chaotic, beautiful, overgrown wilderness.
