Chapter 126 - 126 24 Cultivation Exchange Conference (Part 2)

126: Chapter 24 Cultivation Exchange Conference (Part 2) 126: Chapter 24 Cultivation Exchange Conference (Part 2) “Ouch, which grandson is so thoughtless…

Eh?

Xiao Man!?”

Pei Laoliu let out a pained howl, about to burst into curses when he turned and saw the newcomer was his own grandson.

He scrambled up from the ground and exclaimed in surprise, “You little rascal, how come it’s you!

How could you be here!?”

A few people nearby turned their curious gazes toward the commotion.

Pei Laoliu immediately grabbed Zhang Xiaoman’s arm and said, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s find another place to talk.”

…

In a corner of the banquet hall.

On the table were a pot of clear tea, two dishes of peanuts, three small bowls of appetizers, and some sweets.

An elderly man and a young man were eating and chatting there, and around them were similarly unoccupied tables and chairs, with only a few people scattered around sitting at them.

Pei Laoliu was dressed formally today, his robe making him look brisk and lively.

His hair was carefully combed too, and if it weren’t for the tumble he had taken earlier that left a couple of lettuce leaves in his hair, he might really have given off a bit of a godly Daoist air.

Zhang Xiaoman remembered the last time he saw him dressed so seriously was when they had swindled a wealthy man who had come from out of town.

“Master Liu, I just happened to be traveling over here, so I thought I’d swing by to boost your event.”

“Traveling?

You just said over the phone this morning that you were still playing with Big Black yesterday.

You’re not being honest, kid!”

Pei Laoliu had a look of having seen through his deception, “Also, isn’t this place off limits?

Where did you get the invitation from?

Don’t tell me you’ve got acquaintances here.”

Zhang Xiaoman choked, not expecting that Sixth Grandpa knew him so well, immediately blocking his next excuse.

He could only give a sheepish smile, switching to another explanation, “How could I have any acquaintances here?

I guess my outfit made the security guys overlook me, anyway, I just followed the crowd in.”

He decided to use his trump card, to act shamelessly.

Pei Laoliu’s expression stalled, he had always been helpless against Zhang Xiaoman’s skill, but this time his attention was clearly drawn to one part of the sentence, his face showing a hint of surprise.

“You kid, why did you bring my Purple Cloud Divine Sword with you?

Come on, let me have a look, see if you haven’t ruined it for me.”

Zhang Xiaoman pursed his lips and passed over the Purple Cloud Divine Sword wrapped in cloth, but he retorted, “The sword is mine now, not yours anymore.

Don’t even think about asking for it back.”

Pei Laoliu responded grumpily, then his hand gently stroked the blade, somewhat surprised, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d take such good care of it, kid, cleaning and polishing it.

You haven’t let my jewel gather dust…”

Zhang Xiaoman saw him starting to boast again and simply ignored him, continuing to focus on his meal.

As the two talked, the grand event had already begun on the other side.

The Daoist gathering was, in fact, a mutual exchange amongst charlatans.

And this so-called exchange was really just a combined performance of their various deceptive tricks.

Those attending were all renowned masters from across the country, and the organizers would initially select the top ten individuals with the highest “Daoist” ranking, usually the winners from the previous event.

They would each take the stage to showcase their “skills,” allowing the audience to enjoy a demonstration of “Daoist Magic.”

In the end, if anyone was dissatisfied, they could also take to the stage to challenge, showing off their own abilities.

The organizers would score the performance, and a high score would allow the challenger to take their place.

“Who would’ve thought, Master Liu, you’re quite the player.

This is set up like some singing competition, keeping up with the trends,” Zhang Xiaoman said with a laugh.

Pei Laoliu popped a peanut into his mouth, casually responding, “Don’t lump me in with them.

I’m just a spectator here for the appearance fee and then I’ll head back.

I won’t be performing.”

Zhang Xiaoman didn’t speak further; he knew Master Liu’s character.

Despite appearing somewhat frivolous and always keen on tricking people, he was very clear about his place—he was just a fortune-telling charlatan, never truly considering himself a highbrow.

At home, he was just like any other commoner, more inclined to deceive others than himself.

On stage, the host introduced the ten “Defenders,” whose titles alone exuded mystery and depth—current Sect Leader of Dragon Sleep Mountain, Heavenly Book Pavilion Master, Counting King, Evil Crossing Saint Monk…

Uninformed listeners might even think they had stumbled into a set of a fantasy martial arts novel.

These masters were all seated near the center of the stage, with their followers or sect disciples standing behind them, each person with an air of detachment, as if indifferent to the outside world, the very image of transcendent masters.

Following the host’s invitation, the one to demonstrate first was the Evil Crossing Saint Monk, apparently the lowest-ranked among them.

He was a chubby old man dressed in a monk’s robe.

As soon as he rose, several young monks hurriedly adorned him with prayer beads, handed him scriptures, placed a wooden fish in front of him, and someone even followed behind him, sprinkling water drops on the path he walked and over his body, a confusing display.

“Tsk tsk, quite the grand entourage—when he walks, there’s even someone to sprinkle water behind him.

They should replace that water with petals; it’d enhance the effect.

Don’t they talk about ‘lotus blooms at every step’…”

Zhang Xiaoman couldn’t help commenting.

“Seeing the grandeur of this display, and then looking at your guys, Master Liu, suddenly makes me feel like you’ve been pretending to be a divine sage for nothing.”

At these words, Pei Laoliu rolled his eyes and retorted, “Look at your ignorance, talking about ‘lotus blooms at every step.’ What they’re sprinkling is dew.

It’s called removing the worldly lead, not accumulating karma.

It’s all about purity.

I, Master Liu, don’t fuss over such details; it’s too exhausting.”

Zhang Xiaoman heard his sarcastic tone, chuckled, and didn’t argue further.

On stage, the old monk bowed to the audience, then sat cross-legged on a straw mat, holding a flower in one hand while striking the wooden fish with the other, beginning to chant complex scriptures.

A microphone was set up beside him, and the sound transmitted through the audio equipment, clearly reaching the ears of everyone in the hall.

“Oh, it’s just reciting scriptures…

Boring…”

Zhang Xiaoman had thought the monk would exhibit some unique ability that could be eye-opening, but he was disappointed to hear it was just regular chanting.

However, as the monk continued his chanting, Zhang Xiaoman began to discern a difference; there was something unique about this chant compared to what he had heard in temples before.

It was a peculiar melody and rhythm, where the syllables uttered by the old monk and the beats of the wooden fish seemed to merge into an odd tune that involuntarily relaxed the mind and body, soothing the soul.

It made one’s brain reluctant to think of anything else, wishing only to keep listening in silence.

The audience below was serenely immersed in the rhythm, each person lost in the sound.

After a while, the sound gradually ceased, and everyone slowly came back to their senses.

Although Zhang Xiaoman’s restlessness had been calmed by the chant, unlike the others, he did not fall deeply into it.

He looked at the old monk, who was preparing to leave the stage, in astonishment and thought in shock, “What kind of sorcery is this monk wielding!?

Could it be that there are actually other Transcendent beings in the world?”