Cultivators were few and far between on the bluestone road, and the lanterns at the street corners swayed in the night breeze.
Inside the Drunken Cloud Pavilion on the top floor of the Hundred Blossoms Pavilion, glazed lamps cast light and shadow behind the curtains.
Three cultivators in the black Inspector robes of the Condensed Jade Sect lounged on soft couches. What sat on the golden-thread nanmu tables was not spirit tea, but strong liquor.
This was an affront to the "dignity of the fallen cultivator" expressly forbidden by the Condensed Jade Sect's Tianshu Hall, yet now it carried the air of a cracked pot smashed in resignation.
"Does that Skinflint Xin think he's a Golden Core True Person?"
The curly-bearded cultivator, his face the dark red of a jujube, gulped down a mouthful of strong liquor. The Inspector token hanging at his waist clinked against the table.
"Back when Hall Lord Qing held authority over the patrols, which of us brothers didn't rake in plenty of spirit stones every month? But now..."
The sharp-faced disciple sneered, holding his wine cup and drumming his knuckles against the table. "That Skinflint Xin is all talk. Last month, when we investigated a case on Dark Moon Island, I didn't get so much as a drop of grease out of it."
The last disciple, whose arms had a bluish cast, was Hua Tieshou, who had failed at the Dragon Gate Gathering years ago. He slammed the table.
"That Skinflint Xin even laid down some bullshit rules! No harassing mortals, no preying on local rogue cultivators or neutral factions. What's the point, then? When sect disciples like us go out into the world, aren't we just after a good time?"
The sharp-faced disciple downed half a cup of strong liquor, his bulbous nose flushing