Teahouse

Qin Sang had no idea what the "qi" mentioned in the Netherworld Scripture referred to, or whether it was the same thing as Bai Jianglan's True Qi or Inner Force.

Broadly speaking, the Netherworld Scripture was divided into six layers.

Aside from the cultivation method, the scripture contained not a single extraneous word, touching on nothing else at all. Qin Sang couldn't determine whether it was an internal energy manual or a cultivation technique for immortals.

When he reached the section on the Yanluo Banner, it described how to use that qi to control the banner, but only after mastering the first layer of the Netherworld Scripture could one attempt it. What specific functions the Yanluo Banner had, however, was not explained.

After reading the entire text several times, Qin Sang was still utterly confused, his head spinning. Seeing that it was already late at night, he decided not to rush and went to rest instead.

The city gates of Three Witches City were loosely guarded, and since both Qin Sang and Mingyue were wearing Taoist robes, they slipped into the city without trouble.

Before entering the city, Qin Sang looked back and saw that outside the gates, a sprawling town had formed, stretching for over ten li.

From the city gates outward, the buildings ranged from two- and three-story towers to low stone houses, then to thatched shacks, and finally to open-air straw beds that served as homes.

At the outermost edge, countless refugees from the north had gathered, most of them lacking even a shelter from the wind and rain. Fortunately, Qin Sang had spotted several wealthy households distributing porridge along the way, so the refugees could at least get a meal.

These past few days, Qin Sang had clearly noticed more and more refugees at Green Goat Temple. He hadn't expected the ferry to be so overcrowded, nor that so many would be gathered outside Three Witches City. He wondered how they would survive the harsh winter.

The first thing Qin Sang saw upon entering the city was a steamed bun shop whose fragrance wafted for ten li. His eyes lit up, and he hurriedly dragged Mingyue inside. The two of them devoured a whole steamer of meat buns, barely half-full, before wandering leisurely through the city.

Today was an auspicious day. Daoist Jixin had two rituals to perform—nothing major like weddings or funerals. The old Daoist could handle them himself, so Qin Sang asked for permission and took Mingyue into the city to sightsee.

At Green Goat Temple, Qin Sang had chatted with patients and pilgrims and had heard more than once about how magnificent Three Witches City was.

Now that he saw it with his own eyes, from a modern perspective, it naturally couldn't compare to a big city, but in this era, it truly deserved to be called a grand city.

The two of them paraded through the streets in their Taoist robes.

Mingyue had rosy lips and fair skin, a likable appearance.

Qin Sang, though born a farmer, had never suffered hardship as a child—Qin Sanwa had grown up decently pale-skinned. Add to that Qin Sang's modern confidence and bearing, along with his generous spending, and he didn't look like a poor Daoist at all.

Walking together, the two of them drew quite a bit of attention.

Many curious glances followed them along the way. Qin Sang didn't mind, but Mingyue felt a bit shy, sticking close to him. When she couldn't take it anymore, she tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Senior Brother, where are we going?"

"First, to find some good food..."

Qin Sang's eyes darted around, and whenever he saw something he hadn't tried before, he bought it and shared it with Mingyue. Money flowed like water, but since it was all from his enemies, he didn't feel a thing.

Having followed the frugal old Daoist, Mingyue had never eaten so many good things. She beamed with joy, hopping and skipping beside Qin Sang, gradually loosening up. Still, she felt bad for him. "Senior Brother, you've spent so much money today. Master says money isn't easy to come by. You should save some for a wife!"

Qin Sang pointed at a pastry shop ahead. "Do you want some?"

Mingyue clenched her fists and tapped them together. "Ah... just a little bit of each kind, then!"

Coming out of the pastry shop, Mingyue clutched a large bundle of oil-paper-wrapped pastries, saying she wanted to take them back to share with their master.

Eating as they walked, Qin Sang gained a deeper understanding of this world. Only now did he truly merge Qin Sanwa's memories with his own.

After just a few streets, Qin Sang's stomach was completely full. He also noticed some business opportunities along the way. With the stolen money as capital and some hard work, it wouldn't be hard to scrape by, but he just couldn't muster any interest.

Laughing and chatting with Mingyue, they turned a corner, and a three-story wooden building came into view. It stood by the inner river of Three Witches City, with weeping willows swaying. The sign above read "Honghu Tower," quite an imposing name, though it was just a teahouse.

From inside the teahouse came the occasional crack of a gavel and bursts of thunderous gasps and laughter. Qin Sang knew it was because of the teahouse's famous storyteller.

He had come to the city specifically for this teahouse.

To gather information, one had to find places where people gathered to chat. What Qin Sang really wanted to know were the tales of immortals and monsters around Three Witches City, so he had deliberately asked around at Green Goat Temple and learned about Honghu Tower.

Honghu Tower was the most famous teahouse in the southern part of Three Witches City. It had three floors, with tea prices ranging from high to low, and the customers were a motley mix of all walks of life.

Qin Sang sat down on the most crowded first floor, ordered a pot of tea, and listened to the storyteller on stage.

Bang!

The plump storyteller suddenly slammed his gavel, his chubby face jiggling, and the teahouse fell silent.

"Speaking of this matter, there's a past event that must be mentioned. Five hundred years ago, there was a great hero named Wang Bin, who was won over by our Great Sui's founding ancestor, the Divine Martial Emperor... This man is the descendant of that Great Hero Wang..."

Qin Sang listened for a while. The storyteller, named Liu Jingtian, lived up to his reputation. His tales were gripping and full of twists, making even ordinary events sound fascinating.

But Qin Sang's mind wasn't on the story. He glanced around and started chatting up the nearby tea drinkers.

He spent the entire day at the teahouse, even having lunch there. Qin Sang spared no expense, treating people to tea and making many "friends," using conversation to steer them toward telling local legends of immortals and ghosts from Three Witches City.

Up on stage, Liu Jingtian told his stories; down below, a group of people shared old tales. Mingyue sat to the side, guarding her pastries with both hands, listening with great interest, not bored even after sitting there all day.

By the time the sun slanted westward, Qin Sang and Mingyue reluctantly left the teahouse. Qin Sang bought a large batch of daily necessities the temple was lacking, hired an oxcart to load them up, met up with Daoist Jixin after he finished his rituals, and returned to Green Goat Temple as dusk settled.

Before evening prayers, the three of them—master and disciples—sat around a charcoal brazier by lamplight, sharing the pastries.

Mingyue bit into a pastry and saw Qin Sang flipping through a Taoist scripture. She suddenly asked, "Senior Brother, why were you asking those people all day about the legends of immortals in the mountains? Are you also looking to become an immortal?"

The old Daoist raised his eyelids.

Qin Sang looked up and smiled. "Immortals? Who wouldn't want to be one? Too bad none of those legends are reliable."

"Master said before that people who go deep into the mountains and rivers will never find immortals. Immortal masters wouldn't stay in such godforsaken places," Mingyue said earnestly, afraid Qin Sang would go astray. "Senior Brother, those legends are all fake. Don't believe them."

Qin Sang's eyes lit up, and he looked at the old Daoist.

Daoist Jixin finished a pastry, wiped his hands unhurriedly, and snorted. "Boy, if you're thinking of seeking an immortal fate on Cuiming Mountain, I'd advise you not to waste your effort. Get down the mountain quickly and live an honest life, or you'll cut off the Qin family line."