Chapter 83: Possession

Everyone in the tavern hall stared in astonishment. Only the innkeeper, White Lotus, seated cross-legged at the Eight Immortals table, remained unfazed, watching the spectacle unfold with the calm delight of an audience, resting her chin in her hand as she enjoyed the brawl.

Li Changluo could hardly believe his ears. Was this old black rascal really going to such lengths? Was he seriously prepared to perish together with Miss Mingshan just for his sake? Was any of this truly necessary? And—what exactly did he mean by brandishing a wine jug as if to share a fatal end? Lighting the liquor on fire? Li had tried that trick before—never worked. Unless... was he about to revert to his old ways... flaming hamster gnawing on corn? Self-immolation?

But after a moment, Li Changluo realized just how mischievous Blackwa could be. The man simply raised the jug, took a contented gulp, and, perhaps finding the wine too strong, coughed as the fiery liquor burned his throat. After his sip, he grinned at the wary Miss Mingshan and said, “Your rules demand the sincerest intent—mutual destruction—but this wine is too harsh, too spicy for my throat. I can’t finish it; please forgive me.”

“Hey, you idiot, you said you’d down it in one go! Could you please stop misusing idioms? Someone’s going to die if you keep this up!”

“That’s ‘crushing dry weeds and smashing rotten wood,’ and it has nothing to do with drinking! Seriously...”

Li Changluo groaned, slapping his own head, realizing that this foreigner’s grasp of idioms was enough to chill the blood of any listener. Keep talking like that and someone might just kill you...

Miss Mingshan finally sighed in relief, pointing her wooden staff at Blackwa, and barked, “You little black fatty, who wants to drink with you? If you know what’s good for you, stay out of the way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you—these hands have wielded the ladle for hundreds of years.”

“That’s not important,” Blackwa replied solemnly, raising the jug again. “You think one cup isn’t enough to show sincerity? Very well.” He took another sip, closing his eyes and savoring the taste.

“Can you even understand me? I don’t want to drink with you—get lost,” Miss Mingshan snapped, swinging her staff at him.

Though plump, Blackwa dodged deftly, agile as a reincarnated hamster, slipping past her strike.

“Hey now, let’s talk, not fight. Here’s another cup to you,” he said, taking another greedy swig, then another, and another, oblivious to the world, indulging himself in the wine.

Only then did Li Changluo realize that this bastard was simply greedy for the liquor on the table—his actions had nothing at all to do with rescuing anyone.

This was a true glutton, a hardcore foodie who could find ways to scam food and drink even in a tense standoff. You had to respect that.

“The wine’s gone. If possible, I could drink another jug, all on behalf of my brother Li to atone for his sins. If there’s more good food or drink, send it my way—don’t trouble him,” Blackwa shamelessly declared, holding up the empty jug to Miss Mingshan.

Her eyes burned with fury—this black fatty really had abandoned all dignity for a bite and a drink. With a snap of her fingers, a flash of green light appeared and four tiny winged figures, bows drawn, circled Blackwa in midair.

Sharp arrows glinted coldly, and Blackwa knew that the slightest movement would see him riddled with shafts. He raised his hands, frozen in fear.

“Let’s see where you run now,” Miss Mingshan said triumphantly, swinging her staff at him.

Yet before the staff could strike, Blackwa collapsed limply to the ground, groaning, “I’m drunk... it’s gone to my head... I can’t...”

“My brother... Li... I’m drunk...”

He struggled to finish, then promptly passed out.

“Damn it, this is just too much. Even I want to beat up that black rascal,” Li Changluo cursed, seething with righteous indignation at the sight of Blackwa feigning unconsciousness, and even spat to show his contempt.

Still not satisfied, he looked around and set his sights on Miss Mingshan’s staff.

“Let me borrow your staff—I need to teach this gluttonous cheat a lesson.”

“Let go!”

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

“I said let go.”

Miss Mingshan stared speechlessly at Li Changluo as he tried to snatch her staff—these two really were made for each other, shameless enough to form a matching set, one ploy after another.

Even White Lotus, quietly watching from the side, burst into laughter, forgetting entirely her own image of innocence and grace.

As Li Changluo stubbornly clung to the staff, Miss Mingshan curled her finger, and the four little sprites trained their arrows on him.

Li Changluo recoiled in terror, letting go and wailing, “All I did was accidentally eat a funeral couplet—I didn’t mean to! Is it really such a big deal? I’ll order a cartload for you if you want. And don’t forget, I’ve helped you before...”

Miss Mingshan paused, hearing his words.

“Mingshan, maybe let it go. He only tore up the chick’s remains, but it’s fine, I can help mend it. It’s not so serious,” White Lotus, still watching, interceded gently on Li Changluo’s behalf.

Her eyes, soft as water, were beautiful and tender.

But to Li Changluo, they seemed the most dangerous eyes he’d ever seen—this was no plea for mercy, but pouring oil on the flames.

Sure enough, Miss Mingshan’s rage flared again, and she beat Li Changluo mercilessly with her staff.

As one might expect of the tavern’s head chef, her blows were powerful, sending Li Changluo rolling on the floor, wailing in pain.

Even Blackwa, still pretending to be unconscious nearby, couldn’t bear to watch, turning his head away in pity...

But as the beating went on, Miss Mingshan sensed something was wrong—Li Changluo lay still on the floor, not moving.

Dead?

She stopped, intending to check on him.

Just then, Li Changluo, who had been sprawled on the ground, suddenly stood up straight, his eyes glazed.

“I am Little Chick—don’t be alarmed. I have possessed this young man’s body...”

He spoke in a wooden monotone to Miss Mingshan.

“You...” Miss Mingshan stared at him in disbelief. “Is it really you? You’re back?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’ve returned. You all...”

Li Changluo continued, expressionless.

Before he finished, Miss Mingshan suddenly flung herself at him, clutching him tightly as she wept in utter heartbreak.

“How could you just leave like that? I made your favorite roast chicken, waiting for you to return. I thought your soul would be forever lost in the East...”

Li Changluo looked down at the sobbing Miss Mingshan in his arms, secretly delighted.

What a stroke of genius—calm in the face of crisis.

Possession? That was just a trick he’d made up to get out of a beating.

He didn’t even know if Little Chick was male or female—he just wanted to get by without being pummeled.

And unexpectedly, he’d even scored a bit of an advantage.

“Little Chick, is it really you?” White Lotus, who had been watching from the Eight Immortals table, now widened her eyes and slowly stepped down, gazing at Li Changluo with tears shimmering in her eyes, her expression plaintive and moving.

“Come here, let me hold you...”

She stretched out her slender arms to him.

Damn, was this an invitation for a stolen embrace?

Should I dash over eagerly or stroll over with dignified composure?

Li Changluo was overjoyed...