Chapter 117: Dao Tea

Stepping into the "Mountain Dweller Inn," the eerie sights and the sensation of being watched from behind receded like a retreating tide.

He Changan let out a soft breath.

The seemingly glamorous Linglong Town revealed its true face once night fell. While the revelation sent a shiver through him, it also brought a glimmer of understanding.

The saying that humans and demons walk different paths held true. Yet, demons actually shared a certain aura with humans—after all, both were living creatures. They were not like the ghost tribes beyond the Dasa Pass on the northern border, who viewed humans merely as lumps of flesh—a truly loathsome existence.

At this thought, He Changan suddenly found himself missing the north for the first time. The little black sword in his dantian’s spiritual sea, having "gained a sense of self," stirred with eagerness.

Sword intent flickered, then vanished in an instant.

Standing in the courtyard, He Changan looked up at the clouds of stars. After the time it took to finish a cup of tea, he finally pushed the door open and entered.

To his surprise, Zhang Xiaoyan was in the room, leafing through a casual book.

"You're back? Didn't get soaked, did you?" The Grand Celestial Master of Longhu Mountain peered at He Changan with a grin, scanning him up and down as if trying to discern some result.

He Changan did not take the bait.

This "male beauty" had a sharp tongue; once he latched onto even a minor slip, he would be relentless and incessant, a trait that He Changan found utterly exhausting. He walked to the table, poured himself a cup of cold tea, took a long drink, and sat down in a daze.

The night in the demon town had altered many of his perceptions, and he needed time to digest it all.

"What, frightened by those villains? Tee-hee." Zhang Xiaoyan closed the book, leisurely grooming his long, dark hair, and laughed. "Can't sleep, tossing and turning? How about I treat you to some tea?"

His expression shifted suddenly, his lips pouting in a huff. "Oh, I forgot. Young Master He goes to the brothels to listen to music and drinks the wine of the Celestial Fox Lady—of course, you’d forget about my tea!"

In a fit of pique, he slammed a book onto the table. Still unsatisfied, he pounded it several times with his fair, delicate fist.

"I’ll teach you to be ungrateful! I’ll teach you to be distracted by beauty! I’ll teach you... to value lust over friendship!"

He Changan’s teeth ached watching this, but he held his tongue. He had learned the hard way that when this Grand Celestial Master threw a tantrum, provoking him would only lead to a night of unreasonable lectures until one surrendered and admitted fault. Even maintaining silence was futile; he was simply impossible to reason with.

As expected, after Zhang Xiaoyan stewed in his own irritation for a while—nearly beating the book cover to shreds—he suddenly beamed and muttered to himself, "Sigh, why am I getting so worked up? He Changan going to the brothels... maybe he’ll learn a few new tricks and bring them back. What a wonderful thing!"

Despite the words, the way he gritted his teeth made He Changan’s skin crawl.

"He Changan, tell me, are you truly a fool, or are you just playing dumb?" Zhang Xiaoyan asked suddenly, a non sequitur that left He Changan stunned.

"Forget it, forget it. Talking to you is too boring; you’re more stubborn than my old man."

Zhang Xiaoyan shook his head with a bitter smile and began arranging his tea set on the table. He produced an exquisite jade box, and upon opening it, twelve small porcelain bottles were neatly lined up inside.

The quality of the porcelain must have been extraordinary, for the moment the box opened, strands of cool, refreshing air permeated the room, with visible white mist swirling and curling around it.

He Changan knew these bottles contained tea. Zhang Xiaoyan had boasted about them several times but had never opened them for him to see, let alone brew a bowl for him to taste. He had always claimed that He Changan’s worldly aura was too crude and would ruin his tea.

Yet now, he had brewed twelve bowls in one go, set them in two rows, and looked at He Changan with a smile. "Come, taste the tea of Longhu Mountain."

He Changan hesitated, then walked over and sat down.

"Thank you," He Changan said, cupping his hands in a salute.

Seeing He Changan’s solemn expression, Zhang Xiaoyan seemed to flare up again, but as he caught the fragrance of the tea, his annoyance quickly dissipated.

He Changan sat upright, inhaling the twelve distinct scents, his expression growing heavy.

*Is this the legendary Dao Tea?*

Legend had it that behind Longhu Mountain stood twelve peaks, each crowned with an ancient tree that bloomed once every hundred years, filling the world with its fragrance. After blooming, the tree would wither, only to be nourished by rich spiritual energy and come back to life a century later, sprouting fresh buds. These were plucked and roasted with great skill to become Dao Tea.

One of the most famous talismans of Longhu Mountain was "The Withered Wood Meets Spring." It was said that a Grand Celestial Master surnamed Zhang had attained enlightenment under one of these ancient trees. Watching the tree's cycle of life and death over a century, he had a sudden epiphany and wrote the talisman.

The moment the talisman was inscribed, spiritual energy surged throughout Longhu Mountain, dragons roared and phoenixes sang, and the mountain's flora began to grow wildly. Some ancient trees and stones even gained sentience overnight, transforming into strange and curious spirits.

Zhang Xiaoyan had told these stories casually, and He Changan had simply taken them as myths.

He never imagined that Dao Tea truly existed. And here it was, neatly arranged before him—twelve bowls, no more, no less.

"Well? Am I impressive?" Zhang Xiaoyan watched He Changan’s dumbfounded expression and laughed triumphantly, his movements flamboyant and his posture... too much to behold.

He Changan praised him repeatedly, though he was already captivated by the fragrance of the twelve bowls, wishing he could open every pore in his body to absorb it.

Thus, in a daze, as if drifting through a state of enlightenment, He Changan was lectured by Zhang Xiaoyan for the better part of the night. It was only when the east turned pale and the sky was dappled with morning light that Zhang Xiaoyan departed, satisfied and graceful.

Longhu Mountain, ancient trees, meditation, breathing, pulses, flickering light, fist techniques, sword intent...

...

Just as Zhang Xiaoyan was showing off his twelve bowls of Dao Tea, causing that blockhead He Changan to enter a "state of enlightenment," a golden-crowned Daoist in a celestial cave on Longhu Mountain was gnashing his teeth, cursing loudly, wishing he could fly out and run the man through with a sword.

"Zhang Xiaoyan, you idiot! I... I want to skewer that He Changan!"

A flying sword, gleaming with cold light, circled and hovered above the man’s head, waiting for a single thought from its master to sever the youth’s head in an instant.

"You take the peony and feed it to the cow! Zhang Xiaoyan, you’re something else. Can’t you see the boy is dim-witted, that his brain is half-filled with dung? You’re going to be the death of me! That was my Dao Tea, which I spent three hundred years roasting..."

The more the golden-crowned Daoist thought about it, the angrier he became. He kicked open the heavy stone door of his cave and prepared to descend the mountain to strike He Changan down himself.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw an old scholar in a worn cotton robe, sitting by the lotus pond, contentedly fishing.

In the fish basket beside the old scholar, seven or eight golden dragon-fish were flopping about, clearly caught only moments ago and still full of life.

The Longhu Mountain Daoist felt a sharp pang of pain in his heart. These dragon-fish were remnants of an ancient breed, each with the potential to transform into a dragon. Even to practitioners on the mountain, they were worth a fortune. Given the old scholar’s temperament, he would likely turn them into a side dish for his wine before long.

"Lu Gousheng, have you no shame?"

"Haha, what use is shame? I’m a scholar; I just talk about reason," the old scholar said, looking gently at the enraged Daoist with a smile. "A gentleman values the substance, while a petty man cares for his face. As for an old scholar like me, neither substance nor face matters much anymore."