Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tea Across the Table

It was a clear and breezy day.

The season was in its prime, and the world all around was vibrant and full of life. Three figures walked side by side along the main imperial road, their strides light and brisk. They were all dressed in similar fashion, each with a sword hanging at their waist.

There were two men and one woman.

In the center walked a man with a tall, upright posture, wearing a green scholar’s robe and carrying a book box on his back, exuding an air of scholarly refinement. The woman to his left had a cold, elegant face, radiating an aura that kept others at a distance. The third person was a man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with bronzed skin and a resolute expression.

Not far ahead by the roadside stood a tea stall. The man in the center spoke softly, "We have been walking for a good half-day; let us stop here for a bowl of tea and rest a while."

The other two had no objections. The resolute man laughed heartily, "Whatever you say, Brother Gu."

In less than a moment, the three were seated around a tea table. Gu Xian turned to the stall owner and said, "Three bowls of tea."

They were Gu Xian and Xia Qinghe. The resolute man was named Yang Mao, a silver-ranked officer of the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Their destination was the secret realm that Xia Qinghe had mentioned earlier. Over the years, Yang Mao had served diligently and accumulated significant merit; combined with the many demonic cultivators he had slain during the recent battle at Fengyang City, he had earned the opportunity to visit this secret realm. As for Gu Xian’s spot, it had actually been secured by Xia Qinghe, who had traded her own hard-earned merit to obtain it. However, her merit was only enough to exchange for one spot.

At a nearby table, two traveling merchants were sipping tea and resting, chatting idly from time to time.

"Hey, Old Zhang, have you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"He, what else could it be? That major event that recently happened within Ling Province."

"Oh," Old Zhang’s tone rose, "Now, across all of Ling Province, and even the entire Great Feng Empire, who hasn't heard of it?"

"Who’s to say otherwise? The Longevity Pavilion, one of the seven great demonic sects, has reappeared after hundreds of years. Such a grand undertaking! It’s fortunate that the Demon Suppression Bureau, the Sanyang Temple, and the Qingyang Academy intervened in time, or else the people of that entire city would have suffered."

"Indeed."

By now, half a month had passed since the battle at Fengyang City. The entire Ling Province was abuzz with discussions about the conflict. Once the dust had settled and the rewards were distributed, those like Yang Mao, the demon hunters, were naturally granted generous recognition in the official records. However, cultivators like Gu Xian and those from Qingyang Academy or Sanyang Temple did not fall under the jurisdiction of the imperial court, and thus could only be rewarded with various rare treasures and resources necessary for their cultivation.

The two men at the nearby table continued their idle chatter. Gu Xian and his companions did not even need to lean in to hear them; their voices carried clearly.

"Old Zhang, let me tell you, that battle saw the emergence of quite a few young talents."

Old Zhang set down his teacup, his eyes full of curiosity. "Quick, tell me, who were they?"

The other man cleared his throat. "You know Xu Qingzhi, right?"

Old Zhang nodded. "Of course. He is one of the few in our Great Feng Empire with the potential to reach the realm of a Sword Immortal. His fame is so great that I often hear stories about him even back in my hometown."

"One of the talents was his disciple. This young master has inherited his master's mantle and is also a sword cultivator. I heard a bit of gossip about it earlier." He took a sip of tea and continued, gesturing wildly, "They say that back when Xu Qingzhi was about to take on a disciple, he pointed at this young master and said to a friend on the mountain, 'This child was born for the sword; his future achievements in the Great Dao are destined to surpass my own.'"

"Hiss! Surpass Xu Qingzhi?" Old Zhang quickly took a sip of tea to calm his nerves. "How formidable must he be?"

The other man shook his head and smiled. "Who knows? We don’t understand the ways of cultivation, but at the very least, he must be quite something."

"By the way, who are the other young talents?"

The man continued, his words flowing like a river. "There is also a pair of senior brother and junior sister from the Sanyang Temple. They were taken up the mountain by Daoist Changqing when they were young, and at the age of nine, they both had their spirits recognized by two heirloom immortal swords of the Sanyang Temple. When they work together, they are in perfect harmony."

"Besides them, there is a young scholar from the Qingyang Academy whose brush moves like a dragon and a snake; he forced the demonic cultivators into a corner."

"Of course, the Demon Suppression Bureau also has a young woman. Her swordplay on the battlefield was ruthless—the demonic cultivators didn't even leave a whole corpse in her hands. She is truly a heroine who is no less than any man."

At this point, Gu Xian and Yang Mao cast playful glances at Xia Qinghe. They were curious to see if, given her cold nature, that face of hers—which remained like ice for ten thousand years—would show even the slightest change upon hearing such praise.

The result was a great disappointment. Xia Qinghe continued to sip her tea, calm and composed, completely unmoved.

Old Zhang nodded repeatedly, playing the part of an appreciative listener. "Truly impressive."

The man leaned in mysteriously. "Old Zhang, do you know there is another young genius who burst onto the scene, almost overshadowing everyone else?"

"There’s another?"

"Of course," the man said with admiration. "This one is always dressed in a green scholar’s robe and carries a book box on his back. It is said he comes from a sect called Mount Wuwang."

"Mount Wuwang? Where is that?"

"I’ve never heard of it either. Probably some obscure little sect in a remote corner." He cleared his throat. "But the disciple this sect cultivated certainly made a name for himself this time. After the great devil Xu Mu fled, he drew his bow and notched his arrow, shooting down twenty-three demonic cultivators of the Qi Sea realm on that battlefield alone, not to mention countless others of lower realms."

"Aside from the four masters including Officer Liu of the Demon Suppression Bureau, this young master’s contribution was ranked first among all the righteous cultivators. He became famous in a single battle."

The moment Mount Wuwang was mentioned, a sense of foreboding rose in Gu Xian’s heart. Sure enough, it was now the turn of the two from the Demon Suppression Bureau to look at him.

The man in the green robe covered his face, not wanting to speak.

Just then, the man at the nearby table who had been gossiping turned and saw this. Looking at Gu Xian’s attire, which resembled that of a traveling scholar, he chuckled and said, "Young master, your attire really looks just like that young master from Mount Wuwang."

"Oh? Judging by your tone, it sounds like you’ve seen this young master with your own eyes?"

The man nodded without batting an eye, his face beaming with excitement. "Indeed I have." He leaned in further. "Let me tell you, some time ago I was passing through the Nine-Night Market—not this tea stall, but an immortal-grade inn. I happened to be leaving just as that young master walked in with a few friends."

The fellow grew more animated as he spoke, completely oblivious to the helplessness on Gu Xian's face.

"I’m not boasting, brother, but that young master even invited me to drink with him. Unfortunately, I was tied up with matters, otherwise, if I had shared that drink, I could have bragged about it to everyone in the future."

*You’re already boasting quite enough as it is,* Gu Xian thought to himself.

After finishing their tea, the three stood up to leave. Xia Qinghe suddenly sent a telepathic message.

The next moment, the long swords at the trio’s waists unsheathed simultaneously, transforming into three long rainbows that soared into the sky.

Only Old Zhang, his companion, and the stall owner were left behind, dumbfounded. The man who had been speaking to Gu Xian looked shocked, exclaiming, "My goodness!"

A moment later, a faint, ethereal voice drifted into his ear:

"Brother, from now on, you can brag to others that you once sat at a table and shared tea with that young master from Mount Wuwang."