At that moment, the king dared not stand on ceremony. He hurriedly rose and bowed. "So you are a mage. Please forgive me for failing to welcome you properly."
With another wave of his hand, the guards who had pushed Zuo Qiang to the brink of death bowed and withdrew.
"You?"
Zuo Qiang and the others had recognized Tang Changsheng. They had thought he was just an ordinary tourist like them.
But now Tang Changsheng had appeared out of nowhere and seated himself there, still as a deep pool and imposing as a mountain. An awe-inspiring presence radiated from him without his even trying, stronger than the king's own.
One look at him, and they could not help feeling that a great master had arrived. Their hearts bowed before him.
Tang Changsheng raised a cup of fine wine and was about to drink when Zuo Qiang suddenly cried, "Careful! That isn't wine, it's—"
Tang Changsheng smiled. Zuo Qiang had only seen through it because Tang Changsheng had secretly lent a hand.
But Tang Changsheng had reached a level Zuo Qiang could not fathom. To Zuo Qiang, the contents were nothing but foul water and rotten mud. In Tang Changsheng's hands, however...
Tang Changsheng smiled faintly and swirled the cup. A point of light seemed to ripple through it, as though a single star had shone into the wine. In the blink of an eye, the light gleamed white as snow.
An indescribable fragrance spread. Zuo Qiang and the others felt nothing in particular, but everyone from the king down—the guards, palace maids, and dancers—swallowed hard, their faces dripping with hunger.
The king seemed to resist the temptation for some time. Then he did something that made everyone's faces change: he dropped to his knees before Tang Changsheng. "Have mercy, mage!