Raphael could tell at a glance that the fairly good-looking man bringing up the rear of the group of cultivators, wearing a fawning smile, was a Blood Sect disciple. Perhaps Raphael had failed to conceal his expression, embarrassing the disciple, who promptly glared at him.
In the Twelve Provinces, only the middle class and commoners wore the trousers and short shirts Raphael found comfortable. Being looked down on by someone dressed like that,
naturally infuriated him. After all, even a Blood Sect disciple was a cultivator, and ordinary people would politely address him as "Immortal Master."
Raphael smiled indifferently and looked away.
He was no stranger to young cultivators traveling together. During the era of the Heavenly Dynasty-the past thousand years or so-there had only been a few fierce wars against evil cults, and the major powers no longer fought one another openly.
To keep their young disciples combat-ready, sects generally allowed them to go out in groups for training once they reached the middle stage of the Mortal Realm, equivalent to Sequence 8.
These cultivators were probably out on just such a trip.
Raphael went back to eating and drinking as he watched the people passing outside.
Whatever else he might think, he was very satisfied with the food in this world of cultivators.
After he had eaten for a while, the sky gradually darkened, and the streetlights began to come on. There were white incandescent lamps as well as colorful, flashing neon lights.
They were all electric.
Raphael had also noticed that this world's technology was slightly more advanced than that of China's Republican era. There were trains, electric lights, passenger planes,
and even movies.
After finishing a pot of wine, Raphael went downstairs to settle the bill.
As for his money, he had "borrowed" it from a