"I'm starting to get curious about how you make friends," Zhao Yuansong suddenly said, his expression exceptionally serious. To him, both Huixin and Shen Lang were remarkable individuals. The former had deep Buddhist roots, manifesting anomalies when chanting scriptures, while the latter, though acting bizarrely, commanded admiration.
Hearing this, Ji Yuan gave a wry smile, and the scenes of his childhood, around seven or eight years old, immediately flooded his mind. Back then, he would often sneak out of the Daoist temple, dressed in his robes, carrying a whisk, and darting around the county town. It was during this period that he met Shen Lang, who was diligently studying, and together they would secretly scale the walls of Baiyun Temple, chatting with a naive young monk.
"Everything is destined, I suppose," he said nonchalantly, suppressing his memories. Zhao Yuansong looked at him intently and said meaningfully, "Since we are cultivators, we are ultimately meant to defy fate and change our destiny. How can you still believe in the concept of fate?"
Mortals lived only a few decades, perhaps a bit longer with meticulous care, but rarely exceeding a hundred and twenty years. However, once one embarked on the path of cultivation, even at the first realm, they could easily live to one hundred and twenty. If they reached the second realm and cultivated magical power, their lifespan would be extended by sixty years. These extra years were essentially 'stolen' from heaven, and it was not an exaggeration to say they were defying and changing destiny.
"If we don't believe in fate, why bother to strive and change it?" Ji Yuan smiled faintly, his words causing Zhao Yuansong to pause and then fall into contemplation.
The two walked briskly in the night, taking nearly half an hour to reach the headquarters of the San Dao Hui. Though located away from the bustling city center, this area was densely populated, housing not only locals but also many transients. It was truly a melting pot, filled with dockworkers, restaurant waiters, shop assistants from various businesses, and street vendors. Almost everyone here seemed to have joined a gang, as if it were the only way to eke out a meager existence in the county town.
As they stood before a mansion, two robust young guards approached, hands resting on their waist blades, their gazes wary as they inquired about their purpose. Seeing this, Ji Yuan smiled and produced a calling card from his sleeve, handing it to one of the guards. He stated that he wished to visit one of the leaders of the San Dao Hui. Upon seeing the leader's personal seal on the card, the guard immediately turned and hurried into the mansion, presumably to report their arrival.
"Does the San Dao Hui have multiple leaders?" Zhao Yuansong asked curiously. Ji Yuan, seeing the other guard return to stand by the gate, nodded and casually explained, "The San Dao Hui has three leaders. It is said that the founders of this gang were all skilled swordsmen." The San Dao Hui, renowned as a "three-in-one" organization, naturally held significant prestige in Qianyu City. In its early days, its three founders, each wielding a single blade, had forced all the underground factions within a radius of several hundred miles into submission. Over its hundred-year history, the leadership had changed several times. Currently, only one of the three leaders was skilled with a saber; the other two excelled with different weapons. The calling card he had just presented belonged to the newly appointed third leader, who had invited him to visit on multiple occasions, seemingly seeking a certain type of medicinal pill. However, Ji Yuan was unwilling to associate with underground gangs, and he did not know how to refine the pill the leader sought. Thus, he had politely declined, never expecting that the calling card would prove useful today. In fact, he felt a little sheepish about it.
Not long after, the guard who had taken the calling card returned, escorting an elder with graying hair. After returning the card, he stepped aside, revealing the smiling elder behind him. Despite his age, the elder appeared robust, suggesting he had been a martial artist in his youth, with occasional flashes of keen intelligence in his eyes.
"This old man's name is Weng Yang. If the Daoist priest addresses me as Elder Weng, it would be my honor," the elder stated heartily, cupping his fist in greeting and offering a slight smile to Zhao Yuansong. Ji Yuan bowed in return, uttering a respectful title, and they exchanged pleasantries.
"Please, Daoist priest, come inside." Weng Yang gestured, his demeanor direct and unpretentious, characteristic of people of the martial world.
Exchanging a glance, the two followed the elder through the gate and into the San Dao Hui's headquarters. Although it was the middle of the night, the mansion was still brightly lit. In various courtyards, numerous strong young men could be seen wrestling or sparring. Even more striking were the open-doored rooms where groups of men were feasting heartily, their boisterous laughter echoing at all hours.
A moment later, they arrived with Weng Yang at a courtyard. As they crossed the threshold, they saw a middle-aged man in a blue robe standing in the small yard, gazing at the moon.
"Fifth Master, they have arrived," Weng Yang announced, stepping forward.
Hearing this, the middle-aged man slowly turned, a smile appearing on his stern face. He gestured for the two men to sit, then lifted the lid of the pot on the stone table, which was kept warm by burning charcoal. A rich aroma immediately filled the air.
"You two have arrived at the perfect time. Any earlier or later, and this pot of meat wouldn't taste as good," the middle-aged man said. He retrieved bowls and chopsticks from a nearby bamboo basket and poured them each a bowl of wine. Even the aroma of the wine hinted at its potency.
"The moon is beautiful tonight, accompanied by a cool breeze. With a pot of fragrant meat, eating heartily and then drinking deeply – this is truly the most beautiful thing in life," he said, gesturing for them to eat while popping a piece of meat into his mouth with a look of satisfaction.
Seeing this, Ji Yuan smiled and unhesitatingly took a piece of meat. The moment it touched his tongue, his eyes lit up. Before he had even swallowed, he reached for another piece. He couldn't fathom how this fragrant meat was prepared or what seasonings were used, but it was exceptionally delicious. Even he, who rarely ate mortal food and had only intended to partake symbolically, found himself eating several more pieces. Zhao Yuansong, however, looked hesitant. He knew what this "fragrant meat" was and felt a sense of aversion, but seeing the enjoyment of the other two, he was somewhat tempted.
"Why has the young Daoist priest come tonight? I invited you many times before, but each time it was a disappointment!" the middle-aged man said, finishing his bowl of potent wine after they had consumed half the pot of meat. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then asked.
Hearing this, Ji Yuan put down his chopsticks and said with a wry smile, "Circumstances have led me here. I beg the Third Master's understanding."
"No need for formalities. My name is Xu Liuqing. Just call me Brother Xu," Xu Liuqing waved his hand, showing no desire for pretense. However, Ji Yuan hesitated. The middle-aged man before him looked old enough to be his father, and calling him "Brother" was difficult. Reluctantly, he offered an apologetic "Mr. Xu." Zhao Yuansong, on the other hand, after a few bites of the fragrant meat, naturally called him "Brother" and inquired about the preparation of the dish. This question piqued Xu Liuqing's interest, and he launched into a detailed explanation of his recipe. Between his explanations, he asked about the purpose of their visit.
"Mr. Xu, a friend of mine had a minor conflict with one of your hall masters at the Hundred Flowers Pavilion tonight. He was subsequently captured and brought back to the San Dao Hui," Ji Yuan said with a bow, slowly revealing the reason for their visit.
Upon hearing this, Xu Liuqing's eyebrows shot up, and a look of displeasure crossed his face, causing the young Daoist priest to inwardly exclaim, "Not good." He poured himself a bowl of wine, drained it in one gulp, and said indignantly, "You Daoist cultivators, why do you speak so primly? You're not some Confucian scholar spouting nonsense." Xu Liuqing shook his head and called for Weng Yang, who was waiting nearby, to inquire about the incident. He instructed Weng Yang to bring the person over if it wasn't a major issue. After Weng Yang left, he poured himself another drink, but after only a couple of sips, he slammed the cup onto the table, clearly displeased.
Seeing this, Ji Yuan could only offer a wry smile and quickly raised his own wine bowl, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Xu." With that, he tilted his head back and drank the potent wine to the last drop. However, the moment the liquor hit his throat, he couldn't help but cough repeatedly, his face turning red. Whether it was Ji Yuan's uncharacteristically direct action or his clumsy attempt at drinking, Xu Liuqing burst into laughter, his displeasure gradually fading.
"That's more like it! We in the martial world detest unnecessary formalities. They're just a nuisance and serve no purpose," he said dismissively, professing his disdain for Confucian scholars who constantly babbled about sage teachings and classic texts, making everything so inefficient and troublesome. Zhao Yuansong nodded vigorously, appearing to agree wholeheartedly, and began drinking with Xu Liuqing. The two seemed to hit it off immediately, clinking glasses and nearly cursing the pedantic scholars.
Ji Yuan found the scene both amusing and bewildering. He had always believed in being refined and courteous, only to discover that some people found it extremely irritating. However, since he couldn't drink, the two of them largely ignored him, focusing on their copious drinking, as if they had known each other for years. Ji Yuan was content with this arrangement; the situation was rather awkward for him anyway. Seeing that they paid him no mind, he quietly began to finish the remaining half pot of fragrant meat.
However, before he could eat a few more pieces, Weng Yang returned, accompanied by a disheveled scholar. "Disheveled" was an understatement. The scholar's clothes were torn in multiple places, revealing not bare skin but bruises and contusions, and even several whip marks that had broken the skin. This was Shen Lang, the scholar who had abandoned a promising future to live in poverty, intending to sway those who sought unearned gains with his sage writings and reasoned arguments.
As soon as he entered the courtyard and saw Ji Yuan, Shen Lang realized he had been overlooked. His mood lightened, and seeing the wine and meat on the table, he scurried over with eagerness. Ignoring the two men who were engrossed in their drinking, Shen Lang smiled at Ji Yuan, then helped himself to a bowl and chopsticks from the bamboo basket, devouring the fragrant meat and pouring himself wine. Despite his messy appearance, he ate with evident enjoyment, like a starving ghost reborn.
"Please forgive me." Ji Yuan looked at the stunned expressions of the three men and offered an embarrassed apology. He felt utterly mortified and kicked Shen Lang under the table several times in anger. To his surprise, the scholar looked up with a bewildered expression, his eyes asking his friend, "Why are you kicking me?"
"Pfft!"
"Hahahaha!"
Xu Liuqing spat out the wine he was drinking, and Zhao Yuansong burst into uncontrollable laughter. As for the 'culprit,' the scholar Shen Lang, he blinked innocently, making Ji Yuan's veins bulge with frustration. He nearly drew his sword, intending to run the fellow through.