Why Don't You Drink?

"Fellow Daoist Zhao, this is a spiritual tea gifted by a close friend during my travels in earlier years. Do try it and see how it tastes."

The two arrived at a guest room beside the hall.

The old monk brewed a pot of hot tea, his face beaming with a smile as he spoke to Zhao Huaian.

His countenance was kind, and with this appearance, he could well pass for a virtuous, high-minded monk.

If Zhao Huaian hadn't already known the old monk's true nature, he might have been deceived by this facade.

"Many thanks, Fellow Daoist."

Zhao Huaian smiled, lifting the teacup, inwardly marveling at the old monk's acting skills.

But just as the cup reached his lips, Zhao Huaian suddenly stopped, his face still smiling as he spoke: "By the way, on my way here, I heard that you've taken in many disciples with spiritual roots. Could it be that you're planning to establish your own sect?"

The old monk's gaze fixed intently on Zhao Huaian's hand, his expression benevolent: "I've had that thought, but unfortunately, this old monk's energy is limited. After finding I couldn't nurture them, I sent them off to other sects."

With that, the old monk chuckled and asked in return: "Fellow Daoist, why the sudden interest in this matter?"

Zhao Huaian stared at the old monk for a long moment before finally smiling: "Just curiosity. After all, rogue cultivators like us rarely take on disciples, and if we do, it's at most one or two."

"Hahaha, it was merely a whim at the time. Thinking back now, it does seem rather ridiculous!"

The old monk laughed self-deprecatingly.

Zhao Huaian nodded and raised the teacup again.

But this time, he still didn't drink, instead looking around as he said: "Fellow Daoist, by recommending those disciples with spiritual roots to other sects, you must have received some rewards, right?"

"Not much, not much... Fellow Daoist, drink while it's hot. This spiritual tea is quite beneficial for cultivation. Normally, I'd hate to part with it."

The old monk gave a dry laugh, his eyes fixed darkly on the teacup in Zhao Huaian's hand.

"Oh? Then I must have a taste!"

Zhao Huaian feigned surprise, lifting the cup once more. Just as he was about to drink, he suddenly spoke again: "By the way..."

"Enough with the chatter! Why must you waste my goodwill?"

The kindness on the old monk's face had vanished, and his gaze toward Zhao Huaian now held a flicker of anger and impatience.

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

The old monk stared at Zhao Huaian with his narrow eyes, murderous intent surging within him: "Fellow Daoist Zhao, from the moment you entered this room, you've been prying and probing. What exactly is your purpose in coming to my Clear Wind Temple?"

Zhao Huaian spread his hands, looking innocent: "I'm just curious. I want to know where those children you took in ended up. If I find out which sect, I could recruit some myself and earn a little extra on the side."

With that, he shook his head and downed the tea in one gulp.

Seeing this, the old monk burst into loud laughter, a flash of triumph in his eyes.

"Fellow Daoist Zhao, oh, Fellow Daoist Zhao! You wanted to know where those children went, didn't you? Hahaha..."

"Let me tell you plainly—most of them have already walked the Yellow Springs, long since offered to Lord Flower God."

"As for you, having drunk my tea, your spiritual energy must be hard to circulate by now, right? I'm sure Lord Flower God will be quite satisfied with your flesh and blood."

"Weren't you curious? I'll soon offer you to Lord Flower God and send you to meet those children."

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

The highest strategy is to outwit the enemy; the lowest is to storm the gates.

This was the tactic he had consistently used over the years.

Even when facing cultivators weaker than himself, if he could handle them with schemes, he would never resort to force.

Through such means, In recent years, he had already offered three Qi Refining Mid-stage cultivators to Lord Flower God.

And that was precisely why his cultivation had advanced so rapidly.

After all, the flesh and blood of cultivators was far more valuable than that of mere children.

With cultivators as offerings, Lord Flower God naturally bestowed greater rewards.

Gazing smugly at Zhao Huaian, imagining the petals that would soon boost his cultivation, the old monk's laughter grew louder.

"Lord Flower God? What is that?"

Zhao Huaian showed no panic, instead looking at the old monk with curiosity.

He vaguely sensed that this mission of his might have stumbled upon something extraordinary.

Seeing that Zhao Huaian had drunk the tea, perhaps feeling lonely from years of solitude, or perhaps carried away by his own arrogance, The old monk became more talkative and didn't hold back: "Since you're about to die anyway, this old monk will graciously tell you. Lord Flower God is a deity, the master of all things in this world. I am his devout follower. As long as I offer him the flesh and blood of those with spiritual roots, he rewards me with cultivation."

At first, the old monk laughed wildly, but when he mentioned the so-called Lord Flower God, his expression turned utterly devout.

"That absurd?"

Zhao Huaian was somewhat taken aback.

At the same time, his curiosity deepened—what exactly was this so-called Lord Flower God?

And what was his level of cultivation and strength?

If his cultivation and strength were too great, he would kill this old monk and then flee immediately.

If his strength was lacking, then naturally he would eliminate him as well, to remove the threat forever.

"Heh... do you ignorant fools perhaps know the Divine Might of Lord Flower God?"

The old monk sneered coldly, pushing open a hidden door on the wall beside him. "Boy, if you don't want to suffer, follow me inside. Lord Flower God prefers live prey; otherwise, this old monk would have killed you long ago."

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

Then he would use his Spiritual Energy to capture Zhao Huaian and deliver him to Lord Flower God.

But who would have thought that Zhao Huaian before him would nod with great composure, following behind him without a trace of fear.

"Could there really be someone in this world who does not fear death?"

The old monk frowned, but he didn't dwell on it.

After all, he had seen with his own eyes that Zhao Huaian had drained his tea in one gulp.

Having drunk his tea, let alone a Qi Refining Layer Four brat like Zhao Huaian, even a Qi Refining Layer Six cultivator would struggle to resist.

Beyond that, the old monk was extremely confident in his own cultivation.

Even if some other mishap occurred, with his cultivation he could firmly suppress Zhao Huaian and put on a good show before Lord Flower God.

Just as he was about to lead Zhao Huaian into the Secret Chamber, Zhao Huaian, who had stepped in front of him, suddenly moved.

A streak of Sword Qi flashed by, silver light dancing, and several Silver Needles carrying Sword Qi had already sunk into the old monk's body.

"How do you still have Spiritual Energy?!"

Caught off guard, the old monk suddenly felt his entire body go limp and weak, collapsing to the ground as the Spiritual Energy within him refused to circulate.

"Pfft!"

Zhao Huaian's throat churned, and he spat the tea he had drunk earlier directly onto the old monk's face.

"For all your years, don't you know that among mortals there are all sorts of tricks to deceive others?"

Zhao Huaian sneered with disdain.

Crouching down, he looked at the old monk and asked, "Speak. Is this so-called Flower God a person or something else?"

Now that he knew the entrance to the so-called secret chamber, there was no need to keep up the act.

But out of caution, Zhao Huaian didn't dare barge in recklessly; instead, he planned to find out exactly what this "Flower God" was.

"A god! Lord Flower God is a deity, an omnipotent deity!"

The old monk shouted with devout sincerity.

Pfft!

A splash of blood sprayed through the air!

Zhao Huaian now held a Flying Sword in his hand, and with one stroke, he cleanly severed the old monk's left arm.

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

"A god? I'll give you one more chance to speak properly..."

Zhao Huaian's expression was ice-cold.

He had never believed that this so-called Flower God was a true god.

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

Would the four great immortal cultivation sects still have a chance to survive?

"You bastard! To disrespect Lord Flower God, you'll be struck by heaven's wrath... Ah!!!"

The old monk roared in fury.

But he didn't finish his words.

Because in the next moment, his other arm had also been severed at the root by Zhao Huaian.

The tip of the sword slid across the old monk's chest, and Zhao Huaian suddenly smiled. "I forgot to tell you—before I became a cultivator, I was a famous physician. I saved many people, and I also killed quite a few. The only pity is that to this day, I've never truly examined the structure of the human body."

As he spoke, Zhao Huaian's smile grew more sinister and terrifying. "What do you think? How about I use you as my experiment? I'll dissect you, sword stroke by sword stroke. That way, I can finally satisfy that regret of mine."

"No!!! You can't do this!"

Zhao Huaian's smile filled the old monk with boundless terror, as if he were facing a vengeful soul from the eighteenth level of hell.

But Zhao Huaian paid him no heed, continuing to gesture with the sword tip, as if pondering where to start.

The old monk grew even more terrified, his face turning pale and bloodless. In his desperation, he abandoned all reverence for the so-called Flower God and hurriedly shouted, "The Flower God is a flower! It has a Tentacle in the soil, used to suck the flesh and blood of living things. Every time it finishes feeding, it sheds a petal. The petals can raise cultivation."

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

Zhao Huaian raised an eyebrow, his expression even more surprised. "And its strength? How strong is it?"

"I don't know. I've never seen the Flower God fight, but it probably isn't very strong. Last time I offered up a cultivator, I subdued him myself."

The old monk held nothing back, hastily spilling everything he knew.

Because he was afraid—terribly afraid.

Afraid that this young man would slice open his flesh and dissect him piece by piece.

Such pain and terror were worse than death itself; how could he not be afraid?