Why Won't You Drink?

"Fellow Daoist Zhao, this spiritual tea was given to me by a friend many years ago, when I was traveling around. Give it a taste and see how you like it."

The two of them went into a side room.

The old monk brewed a pot of hot tea and said to Zhao Huaian with a smiling face.

His expression was benevolent. He looked every bit like a virtuous and eminent monk.

Had Zhao Huaian not known the old monk's true nature, he might well have been fooled by that appearance.

"Thank you, Fellow Daoist."

Zhao Huaian smiled and picked up his teacup, inwardly marveling at the old monk's acting skills.

But when the cup reached his lips, Zhao Huaian suddenly stopped. Still smiling, he said, "By the way, on my way here, I heard that you once recruited many disciples with spiritual roots. Are you planning to found a sect?"

The old monk stared intently at Zhao Huaian's hand, his expression benevolent. "I did consider it, but unfortunately, I couldn't manage everything alone. Once I realized I couldn't train them, I sent them to other sects."

Then the old monk chuckled and asked Zhao Huaian, "Why bring this up all of a sudden, Fellow Daoist?"

Zhao Huaian watched the old monk for a long moment before smiling. "I was just curious. Hardly any of us rogue cultivators take on disciples. Even those who do usually have only one or two."

"Hahaha! Back then, I was acting on a whim. Thinking about it now, it really was rather laughable!"

The old monk laughed at himself.

Zhao Huaian nodded and lifted his teacup again.

But this time, he still didn't drink. Instead, he glanced around and asked, "You must have gotten some rewards for recommending those disciples with spiritual roots to other sects, right?"

"Not much, not much... Drink it while it's hot, Fellow Daoist. This spiritual tea can do wonders for your cultivation. I usually can't bring myself to take it out."

The old monk gave an awkward laugh, his eyes fixed on the teacup in Zhao Huaian's hand.

"Oh? Then I'll have to try it!"

Zhao Huaian feigned surprise and raised the cup again. Just as he was about to drink, he suddenly spoke up. "By the way..."

"You're so long-winded! Why waste my kind intentions, Fellow Daoist?"

The benevolence had vanished from the old monk's face. His gaze turned to Zhao Huaian, flickering with anger and impatience.

Zhao Huaian smiled. "Of course I'll drink it. I wouldn't dare waste your kindness. I just wanted to ask: don't you go to the surrounding islands every so often to check whether the boys and girls have spiritual roots?"

The old monk gazed at Zhao Huaian with narrowed eyes, a murderous tide already surging in his heart. "Fellow Daoist Zhao, ever since you entered this room, you've been asking one question after another. What exactly did you come to Clear Wind Temple for?"

Zhao Huaian spread his hands, looking innocent. "I'm just curious. I want to know where the boys and girls you recruited went. If I knew which sect they'd joined, I could recruit a few myself and earn some extra money."

As he spoke, he shook his head and drained the tea in his cup.

At the sight of this, the old monk burst into laughter, a smug look flashing in his eyes.

"Fellow Daoist Zhao, you wanted to know where those boys and girls went, didn't you? Hahaha..."

"To tell you the truth, most of them have already passed into the Yellow Springs. I offered them to Lord Flower God long ago."

"And you? After drinking my tea, your spiritual energy must be hard to circulate by now, right? I'm sure the Flower God will be quite pleased with your flesh and blood."

"Weren't you curious? In a moment, I'll offer you to the Flower God and send you to join those boys and girls."

The old monk laughed maniacally, watching Zhao Huaian with utter confidence.

"The highest strategy was to defeat the enemy through schemes; the lowest was to lay siege to a city."

That had been his usual trick for years.

Even when facing cultivators weaker than himself, the old monk would never fight if he could outwit them instead.

With this approach, he had offered three Qi Refining Mid-stage cultivators to the Flower God in recent years.

That was exactly why his cultivation had advanced so quickly.

After all, a cultivator's flesh and blood was worth far more than that of boys and girls.

When he offered cultivators as sacrifices, Lord Flower God naturally rewarded him more generously.

The old monk watched Zhao Huaian smugly, imagining how soon he would receive another Petal that could raise his cultivation. His laughter grew louder and louder.

"Lord Flower God? What is that?"

Zhao Huaian showed no sign of panic. Instead, he looked at the old monk curiously.

He had a vague sense that this mission had brought him face-to-face with something extraordinary.

Seeing that Zhao Huaian had already drunk the tea—or perhaps because he had been lonely for too long, or because he was too pleased with himself—the old monk grew more talkative and made no attempt to hide the truth. "You're going to die anyway, so I'll be merciful and tell you. The Flower God is a deity, the god who rules over all things in this world. I'm his devout follower. As long as I offer him the flesh and blood of people with spiritual roots, he rewards me with cultivation."

The old monk had started out laughing maniacally, but at the mention of Lord Flower God, his expression turned utterly reverent.

"That's outrageous," Zhao Huaian said, somewhat surprised.

At the same time, he grew even more curious about what this so-called Flower God really was.

How powerful was it?

If its cultivation and strength were too formidable, he would kill the old monk and flee immediately.

If it wasn't strong, then he would get rid of it too, to eliminate the threat for good.

"Heh... How could ignorant fools like you possibly know the divine might of Lord Flower God?"

The old monk sneered and shoved open a concealed door in the wall beside him. "Kid, if you don't want to suffer, come inside with me. Lord Flower God likes living sacrifices. Otherwise, I would've killed you already."

The old monk had expected Zhao Huaian to be terrified and try to run.

Then he would have used his spiritual energy to capture Zhao Huaian and bring him before Lord Flower God.

But who could have guessed that Zhao Huaian would calmly nod and follow behind him, without the slightest fear?

"Could there really be people in this world who aren't afraid of death?"

The old monk frowned, but didn't think much of it.

After all, he had seen Zhao Huaian drink the tea himself.

Once you drank his tea, forget someone like Zhao Huaian, who was only at Qi Refining Layer Four—even someone at Qi Refining Layer Six would struggle to resist it.

Besides, the old monk had complete confidence in his own cultivation.

Even if something unexpected happened, he could still use his cultivation to keep Zhao Huaian firmly in check and make a fine show of himself before Lord Flower God.

Just as he was about to lead Zhao Huaian into the Secret Chamber, Zhao Huaian, who had come up behind him, suddenly moved.

Sword Qi flashed again and again. Silver light danced through the air, and several Silver Needles, wrapped in Sword Qi, plunged into the old monk's body.

"How can you still use spiritual energy?!"

The sudden turn of events left the old monk weak all over. He collapsed to the floor, unable to circulate the spiritual energy in his body.

"Pfft!"

Zhao Huaian's throat bobbed. He spat the tea he had swallowed right into the old monk's face.

"You're old enough to know better. Haven't you heard that people in the mortal world have all kinds of tricks to deceive others?"

Zhao Huaian sneered with disdain.

He crouched down and looked at the old monk. "Tell me: is this so-called Flower God a person, or some other kind of thing?"

Now that he knew where the hidden room was, there was no need to keep up the act.

But out of caution, Zhao Huaian didn't dare go inside without knowing what this so-called Flower God really was.

"A god! Lord Flower God is a deity, an all-powerful deity!"

The old monk shouted with utter sincerity.

Pfft!

A spray of blood burst through the air!

A Flying Sword had appeared in Zhao Huaian's hand. With one clean stroke, he severed the old monk's left arm.

The old monk writhed on the ground in agony, his face contorted hideously.

"A god? I'll give you one more chance. Tell me properly..."

Zhao Huaian's expression was cold.

He had never believed that the so-called Flower God was a real deity.

If deities truly existed, would the Huai'an Water Region still be in this state?

Would the four great cultivation sects still be struggling to survive?

"You bastard! How dare you insult Lord Flower God? You'll be punished by Heaven... Aaargh!"

The old monk cursed loudly.

But he didn't get to finish.

In the next moment, Zhao Huaian severed his other arm at the root.

As the sword tip traced across the old monk's chest, Zhao Huaian suddenly smiled. "I forgot to tell you: before I became a cultivator, I was a renowned physician. I saved plenty of people—and killed plenty too. My only regret is that I've never had a proper chance to examine the structure of the human body."

As he spoke, Zhao Huaian's smile grew more sinister. "Tell me, what if I used you as a test subject? I could dissect you one cut at a time. That would finally satisfy my old curiosity."

"No! You can't do this!"

The old monk found Zhao Huaian's smile utterly terrifying. It made him feel as though a vengeful spirit from the Eighteenth Level of Hell had come to claim him.

But Zhao Huaian paid him no mind. He continued tracing patterns with the tip of his sword, as if pondering where to begin.

The old monk grew even more terrified. His face turned deathly pale. In his desperation, he forgot all about his supposed devotion to the Flower God and hurriedly shouted, "The Flower God is a flower! It has a tentacle in the soil that sucks the flesh and blood from living creatures. Every time it feeds, it drops a Petal, and the Petal can raise your cultivation!"

"Oh? So it's just a flower..."

Zhao Huaian raised his brows, even more surprised. "What about its strength? How powerful is it?"

"I don't know. I've never seen the Flower God fight. But it probably isn't very strong, since the last time I offered it a cultivator, I was the one who subdued him."

The old monk told him everything he knew without holding anything back.

He was afraid. Terrified.

Terrified that this young man would cut him open and dissect him, piece by piece.

How could he not be afraid? That kind of pain and terror was worse than death.