The middle-aged man silently got up and walked toward the bed. Getting on one knee, the man pulled out a small hemp pouch and tossed it unceremoniously on the table. Grabbing the pouch, Ye Fan's master opened it and held a dry tea leaf with his thumb and index finger. Inspecting it, he remarked with slight surprise.

"9 Lives Leaves… How'd you get these?"

The middle-aged man didn't respond and resumed the same posture he held before, hunched over holding the wooden cup of water with both his hands.

Seeing that he was ignored, the immortal cultivator waved his hand and conjured a teapot filled with hot water. He placed the tea leaves into the teapot and waited for the tea to steep. Watching in silence, the boatman and Ye Fan ate the dry rations. Dry and hard biscuits had to be soaked in saliva and chewed extensively before swallowing, making eating an arduous process. Ye Fan's face showed clear displeasure as he made faces while he chewed. The boatman fared much better and placed more of his attention on the Immortal cultivator’s and the middle-aged man’s interactions than the biscuit and jerky.

As the tea leaves steeped in the pot, the immortal cultivator continued to pester the rigid middle-aged man.

"Could you tell us where we are? Although my boatman knows our general location, it would be better to know our exact location."

The middle-aged man cast a side glance at his talkative guest but didn’t immediately respond. Observing the lack of response, the Immortal cultivator continued to sit in silence and waited for the tea to steep. It took a few minutes before the middle-aged man's stiff voice broke the silence.

"This is Peach Blossom Village."

"Peach Blossom Village… Boatman, does that ring a bell?"

The Immortal cultivator turned towards the boatman and asked him. Swallowing the dry biscuit in a hurried manner, the boatman quickly replied to Ye Fan's master.

"The nearest city on our path should be Crimson Snow City… On the way to your abode, the young master and I didn't stop in any villages for rest. I do not recall this village being here, but it may have been that I was just too tired and didn't notice. I apologize that I can't be much help, great Immortal Master."

Saying his part, the boatman cupped his head and bowed. Ye Fan's master nodded lightly and gestured for the boatman to relax.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"You have done the best you can. No one can fault you for such a minor oversight."

The immortal cultivator turned towards the middle-aged man and continued his inquiry.

"How far is your Peach Blossom Village from Crimson Snow City?"

The middle-aged man stared at the cultivator and replied.

"It'll be about half a day's journey downstream with an experienced boatman. But, I'm sure if you used your cultivation it would be much faster."

The cultivator was quiet for a moment's time before he spoke up with another question.

"Since this village is named after peach blossoms, do you have any peach blossom tea?"

For once, Ye Fan's master seemed to show expression. His eyes shined expectantly with a tinge of melancholy. The middle-aged man replied woodenly.

"It's the middle of Autumn. We do not have any peach blossoms."

The Immortal cultivator retorted.

"Do you not have any dried peach blossoms?"

The middle-aged man turned back towards his wooden cup and stared into the clear water once more. All conversation stopped as they waited for the middle-aged man's response.

While they were waiting, the tea had finished steeping. With a flick of his sleeves, Ye Fan's master conjured three elegant teacups: one for himself, one for the boatman, and the last for Ye Fan.

Seeing this, the middle-aged man spoke up.

"Where's mine."

The teapot started to float as it was enveloped by a faint golden mist and filled the three teacups before settling back down in the middle of the table. Ignoring the shack owner's words, the Immortal cultivator picked up his teacup and took a sip. Seeing this, the middle-aged man asked again.

"Where is my cup."

The immortal cultivator closed his eyes and savored the tea for a minute before setting the cup on the table. Opening his eyes and looking toward the shack owner, he responded.

"You already have your drink."

The shack owner stared woodenly and countered.

"That's my tea."

Hearing this, the Immortal picked up his cup with one hand and conjured another cup with a flick from the other. Unlike the other teacups, this one was the exact replica of the wooden cup of water that the shack owner held in his hand. The shack owner spoke up.

"Why is mine different."

Taking another sip, Ye Fan's master explained his actions.

"You were holding onto that wooden cup like it is your firstborn child. I thought you would prefer your teacup to look the same."

Hearing this, the shack owner didn't refute his words and waited for a few moments in silence. Ye Fan picked up his teacup with both hands and took a sip. He was so focused on watching the bickering between his master and the shack owner that he had forgotten to blow on the hot tea, burning himself in the process. Setting his teacup down quickly, he opened his mouth, waved his hands, and started to gasp for air to soothe his scalded tongue.

Ye Fan's master watched with a nonchalant gaze. The shack owner stared woodenly at the child. Unlike the other two, the boatman was the only one to truly react. He smiled and handed his water skin to his young master. Ye Fan nodded gratefully at the boatman and started to swish the lukewarm water to soothe his burns.

Setting his teacup down, the Immortal cultivator started to lecture Ye Fan.

"The path towards Immortality is a long and arduous one. It is just like this cup of tea. If you drink it slowly and savor it, you will obtain many benefits. Conversely, if you drink it too fast, you will scald yourself. Do you understand, my disciple?"

While drinking, Ye Fan nodded eagerly. In the process, he started to choke on the water. He sputtered and coughed. Capping the water skin, the boatman placed it next to the sack. Smirking, the boatman lightly patted Ye Fan on the back until he stopped a few moments later. At this point, Ye Fan's face was bright red and he looked at the ground.

Seeing that the ordeal was over, the middle-aged man turned towards the Immortal cultivator and questioned him.

"Why haven't you served me my cup of tea?"

The Immortal cultivator promptly responded.

"You're the host, serve yourself."

His brows creasing, the middle-aged man grabbed the teapot and poured himself a cup.