The Mortal's Limit and a Salted Fish's Tea

The cold walls of the entryway seemed to warm slightly from the heat of Su Wanqing's back, but the chill that seeped into her bones wasn't from physical temperature. Ling Ye's casual wave sent an indescribable warm current precisely into her brow, like the winter sun melting a frozen river in an instant.

"Mmm..."

Su Wanqing couldn't help but let out a long, trembling sigh. It wasn't pain, but extreme comfort. The sharp stabbing pain, dizziness, and soul-tearing fear that had filled her mind from the shock were smoothed away as if by a gentle, invisible, warm hand. A warm and powerful force flowed within her, not a violent surge, but a nurturing embrace that seemed almost maternal. She could even clearly "feel" the unseen, intangible "qi"—or life energy—within her, guided by this warm current, transforming from its previously chaotic state caused by the shock into something docile and smooth, like a cleared stream flowing and nourishing every limb and bone.

An unprecedented clarity filled her thoughts. Her body felt so light she could almost float, every cell cheering and brimming with life and vitality. The discomfort from the damp cold had vanished without a trace, replaced by a comforting warmth, like soaking in a top-tier hot spring. She subconsciously raised a hand to her forehead, still feeling the lingering warmth, her eyes filled with pure, incredulous shock. What kind of divine technique is this?!

Ling Ye, however, acted as if he had merely flicked away an annoying fly. Having done so, his gaze returned to the half-open door and the torrential rain outside, his brow furrowed as if seriously considering whether to go in and wait for the rain to stop or just squat under some eaves to save himself trouble.

"Come in."

A voice, clearly weak yet exceptionally clear, spoke. The owner of the voice seemed to have just regained control of their vocal cords, with a hint of hoarseness from having survived a close call.

Ling Ye turned around.

Su Wanqing, leaning against the wall, had somehow managed to stand upright. Although her face was still pale, the fear and confusion in her eyes had largely subsided, replaced by an extremely complex emotion—lingering shock, overwhelming confusion, but more than anything, a sense of weary resignation after being crushed by an unknown, immense power. And an irresistible craving for that warm tea aroma and the strange, warm current.

She avoided Ling Ye's gaze, her eyes drifting to the puddle of water on the floor from where his clothes had dripped. She pursed her lips and said, her voice unnaturally stiff, "...Take your shoes off outside." After speaking, she seemed to have used all her strength, no longer looking at Ling Ye, and supported herself against the wall as she turned with unsteady steps towards the warm, brightly lit living room. Her posture was less an invitation and more like... acceptance of fate.

Ling Ye raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised by the homeowner's sudden "reasonableness." He looked down at his soaked straw sandals covered in mud—these things had lasted him for eons in the primordial world, more durable than any magic artifact, just not very modern. Without dwelling on it, he casually kicked off the worn straw sandals and stepped barefoot onto the cold, smooth marble floor of the entryway.

The hem of his wet linen robe continued to drip, leaving clear water stains and footprints on the expensive floor tiles. He paid it no mind, carrying his old cloth bag, and walked into the luxurious, spacious living room following Su Wanqing as if strolling through his own backyard.

Warm lighting, expensive leather sofas, and a blurred mountain view in the downpour outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The air was filled with a faint scent of aromatherapy, but it was powerfully neutralized and dispelled by the subtle, eons-old primordial aura emanating from Ling Ye and the wisps of strange scents leaking from his bag.

Su Wanqing had already thrown herself onto a single sofa, curled up with her knees hugged to her chest, like a startled cat trying to hide itself. She kept her head down, her long black hair falling to obscure most of her face, her shoulders still trembling slightly. Clearly, the experience had left a profound impact on her.

Ling Ye's gaze swept across the living room, finally landing on the huge, polished marble coffee table. He walked over and casually placed the worn cloth bag in the center of the table—a spot usually reserved for priceless artworks or limited-edition magazines.

The bag landed on the marble surface with a soft thud. Su Wanqing, curled up on the sofa, flinched almost imperceptibly, as if hearing a terrifying omen.

Ling Ye, as if not noticing her reaction, slowly opened the cloth bag and took out the unremarkable, crack-covered, dark purple clay teapot. This time, he directly lifted the lid.

An even richer, more mellow aroma, as if containing the profound principles of cosmic creation and destruction, spread like a tangible warm mist throughout the luxurious living room. This fragrance was more restrained than before, but it penetrated deeper into the soul, carrying a strange power that soothed all agitation.

Su Wanqing inhaled deeply, almost greedily and uncontrollably. The warm current surged into her lungs again, further relaxing her tense nerves. She couldn't help but peek at the man by the coffee table through a gap in her scattered hair.

Ling Ye held the teapot in one hand, his eyes scanning the living room as if searching for something. His gaze swept over the expensive bone china tea set, the fine wine in the temperature-controlled decanter, and finally... landed on the island counter in the open-plan kitchen.

There sat a large enamel mug with an exaggerated cartoon pattern, a promotional gift from a supermarket.

Ling Ye's brow seemed to relax for a moment. He walked over barefoot, his footsteps making soft slapping sounds, his target clear: he picked up the enamel mug adorned with a grinning yellow duck and went to the kitchen sink.

Splash—

He turned on the faucet, and clear tap water poured into the enamel mug. He swished it around casually, poured the water out, and repeated the process. His movements were as practiced as if he did it every day.

Su Wanqing watched, dumbfounded. What... what is he doing? Using that cheap duck mug... to brew his life-saving "old tea"?

Ling Ye returned with the washed enamel mug and placed it on the coffee table. Then, under Su Wanqing's stunned gaze, he picked up the ancient, mysterious purple clay teapot exuding a primordial aura and, with a slight tilt of his wrist, poured it towards the cheap cartoon duck mug.

Whoosh—

A clear, translucent tea soup, the color of the purest amber, yet subtly swirling with chaotic starlight, poured from the teapot's spout, filling the enamel mug steadily!

The moment the tea soup entered the enamel mug!

"Buzz—!"

The entire living room space seemed to tremble ever so slightly! Not a physical vibration, but an invisible hum emanating from space itself! An indescribable, far greater surge of vitality and cosmic rhythm than ever before, erupted with the pouring of the tea!

In the corner of the living room, a wilting potted plant's leaves turned a vibrant, glossy green at a visible speed, growing wildly! Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, amidst the torrential rain, all the plants and trees in the courtyard, washed by the rain, seemed to be on a hundred-times speed-up, their branches and leaves swaying and stretching madly, becoming even more lush and verdant! Even the muffled sound of the rain coming through the thick glass seemed to carry a strange, soul-cleansing rhythm!

"Uh..." Su Wanqing's throat tightened again from the shock, and she instinctively shrank further into the sofa.

Ling Ye, however, calmly watched as the amber tea soup filled the cheap cartoon enamel mug. He put down the teapot and then, to Su Wanqing's even more dazed astonishment, casually dipped two fingers into the scalding tea soup and stirred it.

As if it wasn't a spiritual tea containing chaotic life, but just a pot of freshly boiled... dishwater.

After stirring a couple of times, he picked up the enamel mug, brought it to his lips, blew on it, and then—

"Slurp..."

A clear, satisfied slurping sound echoed in the silent living room.

Su Wanqing: "..."

Her worldview had been repeatedly shattered, reshaped, and shattered again tonight... At this moment, looking at the man in the strange linen robe, barefoot, drinking "old tea" that could cause celestial phenomena from a supermarket-gifted enamel mug, her brain completely crashed.

Who in the world is this guy?! Is he a top-tier patient escaped from a mental hospital?!

Meanwhile, amidst the torrential rain on the winding mountain road of Yunqi Mountain, three unmarked black SUVs, like ghosts, had all their headlights off. Relying solely on advanced night vision systems, they silently tore through the rain curtain, speeding towards the mid-mountain villa district. Inside the vehicles, the atmosphere was heavy as iron.