The Teahouse

Qin Sang did not know what kind of qi the Nether Scripture referred to, or whether it was the same thing as the true qi and internal force Bai Jianglan had spoken of. Broadly speaking, the Nether Scripture was divided into six layers. Apart from cultivation, the Nether Scripture contained not a single superfluous word, touching upon nothing else. Qin Sang could not determine whether it was an internal cultivation method or an immortal cultivation chant. As for the section titled *Yanluo Banner*, it explained how to use that qi to control the Yanluo Banner, though one could only attempt this after completing the first layer of the Nether Scripture. What specific powers the Yanluo Banner possessed was left unsaid. After reading the entire text several times, Qin Sang remained utterly baffled. His head throbbed with a dizzying ache, and seeing that it was already late into the night, he decided not to rush things and went to sleep. ... The guard at the gates of Sanwu City was lax, and since Qin Sang and Mingyue were both clad in Daoist robes, they slipped into the city with ease. Before entering, Qin Sang glanced back and saw that an encampment sprawling over a dozen li had formed outside the city gates, resembling a town of its own. Stretching outward from the city wall, two- and three-story timber buildings gave way to low stone houses, then to thatched shanties, and finally to open-air plots where straw laid out on the ground served as a home. The outermost perimeter was crowded with countless refugees who had fled from the north. Most lacked even a shack to shelter them from the wind and rain. Fortunately, Qin Sang spotted several wealthy households along the way handing out porridge, offering the refugees a bite to eat. In recent days at Qingyang Temple, Qin Sang had noticed the growing numbers of refugees, but he had never imagined that on top of the overcrowded ferry crossing, so many would gather outside Sanwu City. He wondered how they would survive this bitter winter. Upon stepping inside the city, the first sight to meet his eyes was a meat bun stall whose savory aroma seemed to drift for miles. Qin Sang’s eyes practically turned green with hunger. Hurrying inside with Mingyue in tow, the two of them devoured an entire steamer of meat buns. Only after filling their bellies halfway did they begin to amble leisurely through the streets. Today was an auspicious day on the calendar, and Daoist Priest Jixin had two rituals to conduct. Neither was a major ceremony like a wedding or funeral, so the priest could manage on his own. Qin Sang had asked the priest's permission beforehand and brought Mingyue into the city to take in the sights. Back at Qingyang Temple, Qin Sang had chatted with patients and pilgrims, hearing more than once about what Sanwu City was like. Now seeing it with his own eyes, Sanwu City naturally fell far short of a modern metropolis by the standards of his past life, but in this era, it truly deserved to be called a grand and formidable city. The two strolled conspicuously through the bustling streets in their Daoist robes. Mingyue had rosy lips and pearl-white teeth, his features thoroughly endearing. Although Qin Sang came from peasant stock, Qin Sanwa had never known hardship in his youth and possessed a fair complexion. Paired with Qin Sang's modern confidence and vitality—not to mention his generous spending—he looked nothing like a destitute Daoist priest. Walking together, the two drew plenty of admiring looks. Many people glanced curiously at them along the way. Qin Sang thought nothing of it, but Mingyue grew bashful, tagging along right at his heels. Unable to bear it any longer, he tugged at the corner of Qin Sang's robe and whispered, "Senior Brother, where are we going?" "First, good food..." Qin Sang's eyes darted everywhere. Whenever he came across a snack he had never seen before, he bought it and shared it with Mingyue. He spent money like water the entire way; after all, it came from his enemies, so he felt no heartache parting with it. Following the impoverished old Daoist, when had Mingyue ever eaten so many treats? Beaming with delight, the boy skipped and hopped beside Qin Sang, gradually coming out of his shell. Still, he felt an ache on Qin Sang's behalf. "Senior Brother, you spent so much money today! Master says money doesn't come easily. You have to save it so you can marry a wife!" Qin Sang pointed at a pastry shop ahead. "Do you want some?" Mingyue balled his hands into fists and tapped them together. "Ah... then just a tiny bit of each!" ... Emerging from the pastry shop, Mingyue clutched a large bundle of pastries wrapped in oiled paper, declaring he would take them back to share with their master. Eating and walking along the way, Qin Sang gained a deeper understanding of this world. Only now did he feel he had truly integrated Qin Sanwa's memories into his own. After walking only a few streets, Qin Sang was completely full. Along the way, he had spotted a few business opportunities. With the stolen money as capital, working hard would easily earn him a decent living, but try as he might, Qin Sang could summon no enthusiasm for it. Chatting and laughing with Mingyue, he turned the corner of the street, and a three-story timber building came into view. The building stood beside Sanwu City's inner river, framed by drooping willows. A signboard on the upper story bore three characters: Honghu Tower. Though grand in name, it was in fact a teahouse. From within the teahouse came the occasional sharp crack of a gavel, followed by deafening gasps and laughter. Qin Sang knew this was due to the fairly famous storyteller inside. This teahouse was the very destination he had set out for when entering the city. When one wanted to gather information, there was no better place than where crowds gathered to idle and chat. What Qin Sang wanted most was to learn of the legends regarding immortals and strange anomalies around Sanwu City. Having made deliberate inquiries back at Qingyang Temple, he had long known of Honghu Tower. Honghu Tower was the most famous teahouse in the southern part of Sanwu City. Divided into three stories, it offered teas ranging from cheap to steep. Its patrons were a colorful assortment representing all walks of life. Qin Sang sat down on the bustling first floor where the crowd was thickest, ordered a pot of tea, and listened to the storyteller on the stage. *Bang!* The plump storyteller brought his gavel down with a sharp crack, his jowls quivering, and the teahouse instantly fell dead silent. "Speaking of this matter, there is a tale of the past that must be told! Five hundred years ago, a hero named Wang Bin was won over by none other than Emperor Shenwu, the founding ancestor of our Great Sui... This very man is a descendant of Hero Wang..." Qin Sang listened for a while. The storyteller, named Liu Jingting, truly lived up to his reputation. His delivery was full of twists and turns, gripping and dramatic; even an ordinary event sparkled with color when told by his lips. Qin Sang's heart, however, was not on the story. Casting his eyes around, he struck up friendly conversations with the patrons on either side. He spent the entire day in the teahouse, even eating lunch there. Qin Sang spared no silver, treating others to tea and making plenty of 'friends,' subtly steering their chatter toward local legends of immortals, ghosts, and monsters around Sanwu City. While Liu Jingting spun his tales on stage, the group below traded old legends. Mingyue sat at the side, guarding his pastries with both hands and listening with rapt attention, never once growing restless despite sitting there all day. Only when the sun's shadow slanted westward did Qin Sang and Mingyue reluctantly leave the teahouse. They met up with Daoist Priest Jixin, who had finished his rituals, and returned to Qingyang Temple just as twilight enveloped the world. Before evening study, beneath the glow of the oil lamp, the three sat circled around the charcoal brazier, sharing the pastries. Nibbling on a pastry, Mingyue saw Qin Sang flipping through a Daoist scripture and suddenly asked, "Senior Brother, why were you asking those people about legends of mountain immortals all day? Do you want to seek immortals too?" The old Daoist lifted an eyelid. Qin Sang looked up and smiled. "Immortals—who wouldn't want to be one? Too bad not a single one of those legends is reliable." "Master once said that anyone who heads into deep mountains and great rivers will never find immortals. An Immortal Master wouldn't stay in such godforsaken places," Mingyue earnestly cautioned, fearing Qin Sang might go astray. "Senior Brother, all those legends are fake. Don't believe them." Qin Sang's eyes brightened, and he looked toward the old Daoist. Daoist Priest Jixin finished a pastry, wiped his hands unhurriedly, and grunted, "Brat, if you're hoping to find immortal destiny on Mount Cuiming, this poor Daoist advises you not to waste your effort. Pack up, get down the mountain, and live an honest life, lest you end the Qin family line."