In Yangzhou City stood a restaurant with a huge signboard.
It had a very ordinary name, "Immortal River Inn," a name used in many other places too, though this restaurant wasn't part of a chain.
It was already evening. The lanterns had just been lit, and the place was beginning to bustle.
The restaurant stood beside the canal. It was three stories tall, with carved beams and painted rafters. From a distance, it looked exceptionally grand.
Of course, that was only by comparison.
After all, this was a small place. Its size couldn't begin to compare with the tens of thousands of restaurants in the Food Ward of the Divine Capital. Its food and prices were nothing special either—even in Yangzhou City, they were quite ordinary.
Still, by Yangzhou's standards, it was a decent restaurant, affordable for most ordinary city residents. It wasn't like a certain infuriating little Great Immortal whose palate had been spoiled and who would inexplicably turn up her nose at it.
At the moment, the ground-floor dining hall was packed with customers. Cups clinked as people drank and chatted amid the lively din. It seemed someone was holding a banquet, because the entire floor was crowded.
The second floor was mostly divided into private rooms by ordinary nanmu screens. The setting was quiet and suited for discussing important matters or gathering with friends. The third floor had the finest private rooms, but not a soul was there. Perhaps the ground floor had been booked out?
None of that mattered!
What mattered was that two people were sitting in an elegantly furnished private room on the second floor.
The man in the seat of honor looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He was burly, with rugged features. Most striking was the vicious scar slashing down his