The mountain wind had died down, and the dust on the official road grew even finer under the constant grind of passing carts and horses.
Three days later, in the scorching afternoon sun, Qingyangzi walked ahead in his moon-white Daoist robe while Wu Feng followed silently behind. The tiger-head blade still rested on his shoulder, and the thick bandit aura clinging to him clashed sharply with the ordinary merchant traffic around them.
Many travelers who passed by instinctively gave him a wide berth, not even daring to glance his way.
"That blade of yours is far too conspicuous," Qingyangzi suddenly stopped, turned, and spoke in a calm tone. "It is nothing but ordinary iron—good enough for chopping mortals, but once you enter the world of immortal cultivation, it will be nothing but dead weight. Three li ahead is Yong'an Town. Why not discard it here and save yourself unnecessary trouble?"
Wu Feng let out a cold laugh. "Discard it? No chance! This lord has carved out his entire path through blood and chaos with this blade. With it on me, I feel steady and confident. You want me to throw it away? Dream on!"
Qingyangzi shook his head helplessly and was about to persuade him further when a loaded wagon rumbled past, its sides draped with coarse hemp cloth.
Wu Feng's eyes narrowed. In the instant the wagon crossed their path, he flicked his wrist with lightning speed and snatched a piece of hemp cloth. The move was so smooth and fast that even the driver never noticed.
He turned and wrapped the cloth around the tiger-head blade in several tight layers, then bound it firmly with hemp rope until the blade's shape was completely hidden. He slung the bulky bundle across his back, patted it, and said impatiently, "There. Not eye-catching anymore, right? Stop dawdling and let's move. This lord is starving."
Seeing his stubborn, unreasonable attitude, Qingyangzi could only sigh and continue walking.
The two of them walked on, one in front and one behind. After roughly half an hour, the outline of a small town appeared ahead.
The town was modest, surrounded by earthen walls no taller than a man. The town gate bustled with constant foot traffic—mostly merchants carrying goods and weary travelers.
By now the sun was sinking westward and the sky was growing dim. The last rays of sunset cast a faint golden glow across the earthen walls.
Qingyangzi glanced at the sky and said to Wu Feng, "It's getting late. We'll rest here in Yong'an Town tonight and set out again at first light tomorrow."
Wu Feng nodded. But the moment he stepped through the town gate, his gaze was drawn to a large notice board.
The board was covered with all kinds of announcements, but one old, yellowed wanted poster stood out sharply.
It featured a charcoal sketch of a ferocious face—eyes and brows brimming with the exact same savage ruthlessness as Wu Feng's. Below it were the words: "Reward: One Thousand Taels of Silver. Capture the Black Tiger Stronghold bandit chief Wu Feng—dead or alive."
A flicker of amusement flashed in Wu Feng's eyes. He touched his own face, then glanced at Qingyangzi walking ahead, completely unaware. The corner of his mouth curved into a cold arc.
He followed Qingyangzi through the noisy streets until they stopped in front of an ordinary inn.
The inn was small. Two dim yellow lanterns hung at the entrance, and inside came the lively sounds of laughter and clinking bowls and chopsticks.
The two pushed open the door and took a table in the corner.
Qingyangzi raised a hand to call the waiter and ordered calmly, "Four vegetable dishes, a basket of steamed buns, and a pot of clear tea."
The waiter nodded and left. Wu Feng stared at the empty table, his face quickly filling with impatience. When the dishes finally arrived—nothing but plain green vegetables and tofu—he had zero appetite. He merely poked at the greens with his chopsticks, brows tightly furrowed.
Qingyangzi picked up a steamed bun and chewed slowly. Seeing that Wu Feng hadn't touched his food, he asked, "Why aren't you eating?"
Wu Feng shot him a disgusted look, his tone dripping with mockery. "You expect me to eat this watery, tasteless slop? Not a single drop of oil. Even the pigs I raised on the mountain ate better than this. Who the hell can stomach it?"
Back when he was the bandit king of Black Tiger Stronghold, every meal had been loaded with wine and meat. These bland vegetarian dishes were simply inedible to him.
"Cultivators must abstain from greed, anger, and delusion," Qingyangzi said calmly while eating his vegetables at a leisurely pace. "One should not crave the pleasures of the tongue. A plain diet calms the mind and nourishes the qi, making it easier to sense the spiritual energy of heaven and earth."
"Bullshit!" Wu Feng cursed outright. "You're a cultivator—I'm not! I don't follow your stupid rules. This lord wants wine and meat!"
Without waiting for another word from Qingyangzi, he raised his hand and called the waiter over in a domineering voice. "Waiter! Bring this lord some real dishes! Sauced beef, braised pig's trotters, roasted chicken, marinated goose, and heat up the best wine you have. The faster the better!"
The waiter jumped at his fierce aura, nodded quickly, and hurried off. "Right away, sir! Please wait a moment!"
Qingyangzi frowned slightly and reminded him in a low voice, "This poor Daoist's purse is light. I cannot afford such expensive wine and meat."
Wu Feng rolled his eyes in disbelief. "I seriously regret following a broke old Daoist like you! You've cultivated to immortality and you're still this stingy—you can't even buy a decent meal. You're worse off than I was!"
As he spoke, he reached into the leather pouch at his waist, hooked a finger, and pulled out a heavy gold ring. He slapped it onto the table with a loud clack and called the waiter back. "Is this enough?"
The waiter's eyes lit up at the sight of the gold ring. He nodded eagerly. "More than enough, sir. There will even be change."
"Keep the change!" Wu Feng waved dismissively. "Just hurry with the wine and meat."
Although Wu Feng had left the stronghold in a hurry, he had brought plenty of valuables with him precisely for situations like this.
But his flashy move instantly drew the attention of every other customer in the inn.
Some eyes gleamed with greed. Others whispered among themselves. In a far corner, a skinny, sharp-faced man caught a clear look at Wu Feng's face and his expression changed drastically. He shrank back, then quietly slipped toward the inn door and hurried out—clearly having recognized the bandit chief.
Wu Feng noticed everything but didn't care in the slightest.
Soon the waiter returned with steaming plates of rich meat and wine, instantly chasing away the bland vegetarian smell that had filled the table.
Wu Feng picked up his chopsticks without a word, grabbed a huge chunk of sauced beef, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed heartily. He then lifted the wine pot and took a long, fierce swig straight from the spout. Wine spilled from the corners of his mouth and dripped onto his collar, but he paid it no mind. He simply felt refreshed and satisfied.
Qingyangzi remained unmoved. He continued eating his vegetables and buns as if the wine and meat on the table didn't exist.
Wu Feng was just getting into the meal, his savage aura easing a little with every bite of meat and gulp of wine. He was about to reach for another piece of marinated chicken when heavy footsteps suddenly sounded at the inn door, accompanied by a loud official shout:
"Nobody move! Official business!"
The lively noise in the inn died instantly. Every customer froze and looked toward the entrance.
Five constables filed in. Their leader was a burly man with a steel blade at his waist and an imposing expression. His gaze swept across the room and locked onto the corner where Wu Feng sat. His eyes sharpened at once.
The other customers instinctively shrank back, afraid of getting dragged into whatever was about to happen.
Qingyangzi set down his chopsticks, glanced at the constables, then looked at Wu Feng beside him with a trace of helplessness. He did not stand up.
Wu Feng kept his head lowered, calmly gnawing on the marinated chicken, oil still glistening at the corner of his mouth. His expression was terrifyingly calm—as if he had expected this all along.
The reason he had acted so boldly after entering the inn was precisely to draw attention and bring the authorities here.
This way, he could use these constables to test exactly how deep this old Daoist's abilities truly ran.
After all, the only trick Wu Feng had seen so far was the man conjuring fire from thin air. Everything else remained a complete mystery.