Feng Zhiming and Anissa sat at a table in the Wild Chicken, a locally renowned but shabby restaurant. The atmosphere was a far cry from the elegant places they had dined at before. The walls were cracked, and the furniture seemed on the verge of collapse. The clientele, all cultivators, eyed each other with suspicion, and several lecherous glances were thrown Anissa’s way. However, the moment her strength became apparent, those eyes quickly averted.
“This is a total scam,” Feng Zhiming grumbled, biting into a piece of chicken and finding it less than satisfactory.
As he mulled over the disappointing meal, a notification flashed in his mind.
[Assembly wide announcement to all Ethereal Core Participants]
[The Creature of the Wildlands is a worthy opponent. No one has managed to hunt it yet. The quality of the reward has been raised.]
A smile crept onto Feng Zhiming’s face. It was ironic, considering his past, that he would call someone else a scammer. But with no one around who knew his history, he felt free to express his thoughts openly.
“Are you sure we can trust the words of some random kid on the street?” Anissa asked, nibbling on a small steam bun. Earlier, as they were asking around for information about the creature of the Wildlands, a child had approached them unprompted.
“In the Wild Chicken around noon, a bald man with two rings on his fingers will appear. He has information on the creature everyone is hunting these days,” the child had said before walking away, not asking for anything in return.
Feng Zhiming had considered the possibilities. It could be an elaborate trap, though unlikely since he hadn’t made any significant enemies in this world yet. More plausibly, the bald man had paid the child to spread the word, hoping to sell his information to the highest bidder. After weighing the risks, Feng Zhiming decided to take the chance and visit the restaurant. The fact that they served chicken, of course, had no influence on his decision—at least, that’s what he told himself.
“Can’t hurt to try,” Feng Zhiming replied, shrugging. “We were aimlessly gathering information anyway. We’ll know soon enough if the kid was just having fun.”
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Just as he finished speaking, a group of five entered the restaurant—two women and three men, all wearing matching blue robes and drenched in sweat. The women, in particular, seemed uncomfortable, trying to keep their robes from clinging to their bodies.
Feng Zhiming instantly recognized them as cultivators from the orthodox faction, clearly unaware of the kind of place they had walked into.
“Oooh, what do we have here?” one of the local cultivators sneered.
“Let me give you some shade, beauties,” another chimed in.
“Those robes look a little wet. Come here, let me dry them for you,” a third added, his tone laced with mockery.
The men of the orthodox group, though only at the Foundation Establishment stage, bristled at the taunts. One of them, a man with thick eyebrows, stepped forward, his aura flaring as he spoke.
“Hold your tongues, filthy vermin of the Wildlands, or I’ll silence you permanently.” His aura, at the Actualized level of the Ethereal Core, momentarily silenced the room.
But one of the local cultivators scoffed. “Let’s see how long you keep that attitude, little boy. The Mountain Smashing Sect is just a small force in the Wildlands, acting tough because your leader’s a Spiritual Awakener.” He chuckled and returned to his drink.
The man with thick eyebrows scoffed in return and led his group to a table, clearly waiting for something—or someone.
“It’s like a group of sheep entering a wolf’s den,” Anissa remarked, taking a small bite of the chicken that Feng Zhiming had been devouring.
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well for them,” Feng Zhiming replied, still focused on his meal.
As they waited for the bald man to appear, Feng Zhiming suddenly remembered something. “There’s a great question from a scholar I once read about. His name was Zhishi Wu,” he sent via voice transmission to Anissa.
“What’s the question?” she asked, intrigued.
“It goes like this: Is one who chases eternal life a cultivator, or does being a cultivator mean you chase eternal life?”
Anissa’s curiosity dimmed as she contemplated the question, resting her head in her hands. After a few moments of deep thought, she sighed. “I don’t know. Which is it?”
Feng Zhiming was slightly disappointed; he hadn’t expected an answer, but he had hoped for some discussion. “The answer is I—”
Before he could finish, the door to the restaurant swung open, and a bald man wearing two rings entered, just as the child had said. The man moved to a table in the middle of the restaurant and sat down, his presence drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
Feng Zhiming quickly wiped his hands and stood up. “Wait here,” he instructed Anissa before making his way over to the man’s table.
“Twenty spirit stones,” Feng Zhiming said as he sat down, wasting no time on pleasantries. He wanted this transaction to be quick and efficient.