Chapter 147: The Tavern Sage and the Desert Horsemen

It was high noon.

The border city of Wood Mulberry was a picture of prosperity, traffic flowing like a river and horses forming dragons. The streets and alleys were a cacophony of hustle and bustle.

On a bustling street, there stood a prominent tavern. By a window on the second floor sat a Daoist priest clad in pristine white robes.

The priest appeared remarkably young, his complexion fairer and more lustrous than that of a maiden. Yet, cascading from his head was a mane of snow-white hair, matched by a long, flowing beard. This juxtaposition of youthful features and aged hair gave him an aura of ethereal transcendence—a “crane’s visage with a child’s face.”

One glance was enough to tell that this was a master who had attained the Dao, standing apart from the dust of the mortal world.

This white-robed Daoist was none other than Li Meng.

“This mortal wine… it actually possesses a certain chaotic flavor.”

Downing a cup of the fiery spirits, Li Meng narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. By his calculation, it had been over sixty years since he last tasted the delicacies of the mortal realm.

After a cultivator achieves Inedia, the need for mortal sustenance vanishes. Absorbing the Spiritual Qi of Heaven and Earth to nourish the flesh is sufficient to sustain daily consumption.

Li Meng turned his gaze toward the noisy street below. The mundane, market-place atmosphere of the mortal world was on full display.

To exist in such a world is to walk through a web of karma, Li Meng mused. If one is not careful, karma entangles the body. Often, a trivial, inadvertent matter can spiral into a great karmic debt, leading a cultivator to a tribulation of death. It is not without reason that cultivators seek to sever worldly ties. These are lessons written in the blood of predecessors.

However, mortal karma is not devoid of merit. If one uses the red dust of the mortal world to temper one’s state of mind, it can be of immense benefit to the future Dao path.

“Waiter,” Li Meng called out, his voice calm but cutting through the ambient noise. “With wine, why are there no dishes?”

The table before him was bare, save for the wine bottle and a lonely plate of peanuts.

The passing waiter froze, clearly stumped. He hurried over, bending low at the waist with an apologetic smile. “Immortal Master, is this your first time here? As our sign says, this is a tavern. We have small plates to accompany drink, but no main courses to satisfy hunger!”

Li Meng’s expression remained indifferent. He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a heavy gold ingot.

Thud.

He placed it on the table with a casual heaviness that made the wood groan. “I want to drink the best wine and eat the finest delicacies Wood Mulberry City has to offer.”

The waiter’s eyes went wide, and he let out an involuntary chuckle of delight. He quickly snatched up the gold before anyone else could truly gauge its weight.

“As the saying goes, money can make the devil push the millstone! This humble one will arrange it for the Immortal Master immediately!”

The waiter turned and hurried away. At first, he merely walked fast, but soon he broke into a run, the heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs with urgency.

Listening to the frantic departure, a faint, cynical smile played on Li Meng’s lips.

While recovering Mana in this leisure time, I might as well relax properly. Experiencing the mundane air isn’t a bad thing.

The surrounding patrons, however, were not so calm.

“That Daoist master is truly opulent!”

“Indeed! Pulling out such a large ingot… isn’t that kid afraid it might burn his hands?”

“Hmph, what do you know?” A wiser voice cut in, hushed but urgent. “Look at his bearing—imposing and ethereal. That ‘crane hair, child face’ look? That is the mark of a high expert. The things he gives are not easily taken. If anyone harbors ill intentions toward him, they invite a bloody calamity.”

“It can’t be that sinister, can it?”

“You have no vision. I’m warning you, when you encounter these wandering Daoists, keep your mouth shut. Even if you’re pretending, be polite. If those Daoist masters want to deal with someone, they kill without shedding a drop of blood. You wouldn’t even know how you died.”

Li Meng’s lavish spending had drawn the attention of the entire second floor. His celestial aura made him stand out like a crane among chickens; staying unnoticed was impossible.

Facing the scrutinizing and covetous gazes, Li Meng remained silent, sipping his wine in solitude.

He wore the Daoist robes for convenience. Rogue Cultivators favored the guise of wandering priests to mingle in the mortal world, performing minor exorcisms to earn silver while cultivating. It was a classic disguise.

Li Meng’s gaze drifted to a drinker at a neighboring table. The man’s voice was the loudest, projecting an image of worldly experience. He seemed particularly familiar with the ways of wandering Daoists.

Sensing Li Meng’s gaze, the burly drinker grinned broadly and clasped his fists in a respectful salute.

Li Meng smiled faintly and nodded in return.

So, it is a fellow Daoist.

Although the man looked like a mortal laborer, Li Meng’s spiritual sense saw through the disguise instantly. He was a genuine mountain ascendant.

Cultivation is not low—Qi Condensation ninth layer. His aura is restrained, showing faint signs of breaking through to Peak Qi Condensation. His aptitude is decent too, a three-element spiritual root of Metal, Wood, and Fire. He has hope for Foundation Establishment within ten years.

Li Meng noted the man’s Luck value: only 800.

Don’t think about heaven-sent opportunities with that luck. But if he cultivates step by step, he won’t encounter major calamities either.

The two exchanged a tacit understanding, acknowledging each other’s hidden nature without a word, before withdrawing their gazes.

About half an hour later.

Thump, thump, thump.

The stairs groaned under a lively procession. The waiter returned, followed by more than ten attendants, each carrying an exquisite rosewood box.

“Immortal Master, your feast has arrived!”

In moments, the table before Li Meng was groaning under the weight of delicacies. It was a feast complete in color, aroma, and taste—creatures from the water, birds from the sky, and beasts from the land.

“Immortal Master, these are the signature dishes from the Drunken Fragrance Pavilion!”

The waiter then presented a sealed jar with reverence. “And this! This is our establishment’s treasure—hundred-year-old ‘Immortal’s Inebriation’!”

Li Meng glanced at the wine jar. To mortals, a hundred years was a lifetime. To him, it was a nap.

“Not bad. You may go.”

Good things were best enjoyed in solitude.

The waiter’s face bloomed like a flower. “As long as the Immortal Master is satisfied!” Only if the customer was happy could he pocket that gold with peace of mind. “Immortal Master, please enjoy. This humble one will not disturb you further!”

The waiter bowed, retreated two steps, and then turned to hurry away.

Li Meng began to enjoy the mortal delicacies of Wood Mulberry City. A bite of rich food, a sip of aged wine—it was a rare moment of simple joy.

“Eh? Where is the Immortal Master?”

When the waiter went upstairs again some time later to check on the esteemed guest, he froze.

The Immortal Master was gone.

The table was empty, save for a single set of wine utensils. The massive feast he had bought from the Drunken Fragrance Pavilion seemed as if it had never existed. There were no leftovers, no bones, not even a grease stain on the table. The wood was spotless, as if it had been wiped clean by magic.

The surrounding drinkers continued their conversations, their reactions strange—as if nothing had happened at all.

“Could it be… I encountered a true immortal?”

The waiter frantically patted the pouch at his waist. He let out a breath of relief.

Good, good. The gold is still there!

Tianlan Continent. The Western Region Desert.

Located at the extreme west of the Tianlan Continent, the Western Region Desert was a desolate expanse stretching over a hundred thousand miles.

In the eyes of mortals, this place was a forbidden zone of death. Those who entered faced nine deaths for a single chance at life.

But in the eyes of cultivators, it was a treasure trove. Areas devoid of human activity were breeding grounds for demon beasts. And while demon beasts were dangerous, their bodies—fur, bones, blood, and cores—were materials for crafting and alchemy. To a cultivator, they were walking bags of spirit stones.

Yellow sand filled the sky; barren red earth stretched for a thousand miles. This was the portrait of the Western Region.

On this day, dust billowed through the Ancient Gorge Path.

A team of riders galloped on horseback, the rumbling thunder of hooves echoing off the canyon walls.

“Junior Sister, there’s someone ahead!”

The burly man at the front of the formation suddenly tightened his grip on the reins, his other hand instinctively grasping the hilt of the blade at his waist.

Through the haze of dust, a figure was walking on foot. He wore a white Daoist robe and had a head of striking white hair. From the back, he appeared to be an old man, yet his gait was light, and his frame lacked the withered frailty of age.

This was the depths of the Western Region Desert. Anyone appearing here alone, on foot, was definitely not a mortal.

The young woman on the horse beside him turned her head. She wore brown, form-fitting martial attire that was practical for the desert wind. Her jet-black hair, reaching her waist, was tied into many small, intricate braids. Her posture on horseback was practiced and elegant, the tight clothing outlining the full, curvaceous lines of her waist and figure.

She narrowed her eyes, peering at the mysterious white-robed figure ahead.