Zhang Deming watched the proprietress with a cool gaze, a little confused. He had no idea what she was talking about.
Seeing his expression, the proprietress assumed he wasnât concerned. She guessed he was some rich master who didnât mind the small sum, and said with a sigh of relief, "Well, enjoy your meal."
Zhang Deming watched the proprietress leave, completely baffled. He turned to the young boy sitting at the table. "Fellow Daoist, would you mind if I joined you? There are no other empty seats."
The young boy, Yi Huaihai, smiled at Zhang Deming. His gaze lingered for a moment on Zhang Demingâs robes before he replied, "I donât mind at all, Senior Brother."
Zhang Deming paused. "You call me Senior Brother? Could it be that youâre..."
Yi Huaihai smiled. "Iâm a Noble Disciple from one of the Peripheral Noble Families of the Celestial Spirit Sect. Iâm on my way there now, hoping to enter the Outer Sect."
Zhang Deming asked, puzzled, "All by yourself?"
âEven though heâs a Cultivator, isnât he a little young to be traveling alone?â
âIs his family really that reckless?â
Yi Huaihai fell silent. Seeing this, and since they were complete strangers, Zhang Deming didnât press the matter.
Yi Huaihai smiled and asked, "Would you like to eat with me?"
It was clear this child was quite precocious, with a mind beyond his years.
Zhang Deming glanced at the dishes. It was all Ordinary food, no Spiritual Food, so it wouldnât be much of an expense for the boy.
For someone who had been a servant in the Celestial Spirit Sect for over two years, Silver Coins were worth about as much as a steamed bun.
So, Zhang Deming didnât stand on ceremony. He picked up his chopsticks and said, "Sure!"
"Well now, you two little brothers canât finish all this, can you?"
Just as he picked up his chopsticks, intending to make some small talk, a half-drunk old man approached their table. He reeked of alcohol and looked as if he hadnât bathed or washed his hair in years, dressed in filthy rags like a beggar.
The overwhelming stench, a veritable biochemical weapon, made both Zhang Deming and Yi Huaihai, who were just about to eat, wrinkle their noses in disgust.
The man brazenly sat down right next to Zhang Deming. Seeing that the only adult at the table, Zhang Deming, was just frowning and saying nothing, he spoke up:
"Here, this old beggar will help you take care of that."
As he spoke, he reached out to grab the food. His hand was caked in clearly visible grime.
"Youâd best think twice before you do that."
Yi Huaihai spoke softly, his tone gentle and lacking any real force.
Since Zhang Deming had only just arrived and hadnât grasped the situation, and considering he was the one crashing the table and mooching a meal, he simply watched without saying a word.
The old manâs hand paused. He carefully sized up both Yi Huaihai and Zhang Deming, paying special attention to Zhang Demingâs hands. Seeing no calluses on them, he chuckled and replied:
"Oh, donât be so stingy. Youâve ordered such a feast, itâs made this old beggarâs stomach rumble.
"You two canât finish it all anyway. Let me help you with it, so it doesnât go to waste."
As he spoke, heâd already snatched a piece of meat with his bare hand and tossed it into his mouth.
"Mmm, thatâs not bad at all."
With that, he reached for another dish.
His grimy hand, now covered in grease, dripped onto several other platters, making most of the food inedible.
Yi Huaihaiâs expression turned cold. He drew a dagger from his robes and slashed at the man.
The old man seemed completely unconcerned. While still stuffing his face with one hand, he effortlessly parried every one of Yi Huaihaiâs attacks with the other.
His lazy smile never faltering, he mumbled, "No need to get so worked up, little one. If itâs that big a deal, I, the Liuzhou Old Beggar, will owe you a favor.
"And you," he added, looking at Zhang Deming, "you should keep him in line. Itâs not good for a kid this young to be pulling knives on people."
Zhang Deming shot the man a cool glance but said nothing.
The moment he announced himself as the "Liuzhou Old Beggar," the hostile stares that had been fixed on Zhang Deming and the boy instantly softened. Many people averted their gazes, no longer watching so brazenly.
Just then, Yi Huaihai laughed. Of the ten dishes on the table, the old beggar had already contaminated eight, leaving only the two directly in front of him and Zhang Deming.
Clearly, the man wasnât just planning to mooch a meal; heâd noticed that Zhang Deming and the boy were particular about cleanliness and had deliberately helped himself to eight dishes.
"Thatâs more like it! Itâs just a table of food, after all," the old beggar said, misinterpreting Yi Huaihaiâs smile.
Yi Huaihai shook his head and sheathed his dagger. Zhang Deming watched in silence. âThis kid doesnât look very old, but heâs an Intermediate Apprentice,â he noted.
âForget the old beggar; this kid could probably take on everyone in this room by himself.â
âThe only reason he lost that exchange was because he didnât use a shred of Spiritual Power. His pure martial arts are clearly no match for this seasoned old hustler.â
Zhang Deming quietly watched the man gorge himself. Of the ten dishes, only the ones directly in front of Zhang Deming and Yi Huaihai remained untouched. The man seemed to think this made him principled.
After a while, Zhang Deming watched the man finish. He had devoured all eight dishes completely. What an incredible appetite.
"*BURP*... Havenât eaten this well in ages," the old man said, patting his stomach. He turned to the silent Zhang Deming. "I, the old beggar Meng Lang, was a bit presumptuous today. I owe you one."
Zhang Deming ignored him. He was starting to piece things together. âSo this guy thinks Iâm the kidâs guardian?â
âCoupled with the proprietressâs earlier words and reaction, it meant the boy hadnât been here long. He probably arrived right around the same time I did.â
Just then, Yi Huaihai smiled and asked, "Are you finished?"
The old man nodded. "Iâm finished."
"Enjoy your meal?" Yi Huaihai pressed.
The old man nodded with a smile. "I did. Whatâs the matter, little one? Still not happy about it?
"Do you really think this old beggar came here just to freeload off you?
"You donât have a single callus on you, and your fighting skills are average at best. Youâre obviously not a martial artist. And the guardian next to you isnât much better.
"Youâre loaded with Silver Coins that you brazenly slam on the table, making them jingle for all to hear, yet you donât have a single servant or retainer with you. And you show up at a remote post station like this, in the middle of nowhere.
"If I, this old beggar, hadnât shown up to âmoochâ this meal, believe me, you wouldnât make it half a mile out of here tomorrow.
"Did you really think Iâm desperate for a bite of your food?
"In all of Liuzhou, if I, this old beggar, just said the word, countless people would be lining up to treat me to a feast. You think Iâm desperate for your scraps?"
Zhang Deming nodded and chimed in, "Right, youâre Hong Qigong. I had a feeling."
"Hong Qigong? Whoâs that?" the old man asked, puzzled.
Zhang Deming didnât answer him. "If you hadnât launched into that whole speech just now, it might have been more convincing," he continued.
"Freeloading off us, then sticking around to ward off the unsavory characters and escort us to our destination... If we were just Ordinary people, that act would be far more believable.
"But following it up with that big speech makes the whole thing feel staged.
"Speaking of which, do you really not recognize these robes? Or is it that..."
Zhang Deming let his speculation hang in the air.
"Robes?" The old beggar frowned, studying Zhang Demingâs attire. After a long moment, he still couldnât see anything special about them.