Seeing that he truly intended to take a blade to Yi Fuju, the others scrambled in a frantic mess to stop him. Ming Zhu, never one to miss a chance to stir up trouble, ran inside after them, egging him on. "There’s no need to hack him to pieces. Just give him a good thrashing. He’s actually quite weak. Come on, Brother Weiyang, what do you say?"
Ye Weiyang let out a cold sneer. "If he can’t even beat me, what right does he have to provoke Fuhua? And you, you useless waste—you were right there, couldn't you have kept an eye on things?"
Ming Zhu muttered sheepishly, "I was scared."
"Good-for-nothing."
The two continued into the inn as they spoke, and within a few steps, they had already begun discussing where to dispose of the body.
The onlookers listened with trepidation. Just as they were about to step forward to intervene, Guining Zhenren, dressed in white and looking as cold as frost, descended the stairs. With a single icy sweep of his gaze, everyone below fell instantly silent. Even Ming Zhu, who had been bouncing around with glee, didn't dare make another sound.
Guining Zhenren walked down the steps, his narrow eyes flickering toward Ming Zhu. Terrified, Ming Zhu immediately stuffed the various trinkets he had bought into Shen Hongchuan’s arms, becoming as silent as a winter cicada.
"M-Master, are you going out?"
Guining Zhenren gave a curt "Mm." He exchanged a look with Ye Weiyang before saying, "You come with me as well."
Ming Zhu was currently adjusting the skull mask that sat crookedly on the side of his face with one hand, wondering if he should take it off to avoid provoking his master’s temper. However, he truly liked the mask too much. Just as he was caught in this dilemma, he suddenly heard Guining Zhenren speak to him. He let out a startled "Ah?" before replying, "Alright."
He followed obediently behind Guining Zhenren, mouthing silently to Shen Hongchuan: *Put my things in my room. Don't lose a single one.*
Shen Hongchuan nodded helplessly.
Guining Zhenren led him toward the exit. Just as they reached the door, he suddenly added, "Fuxue, you come too."
Zhou Fuxue was somewhat bewildered, but he followed along obediently. Beside him, Ming Zhu was frantically winking and making faces at him.
The streets were bustling with people coming and going. Guining Zhenren turned a blind eye to the mask Ming Zhu wore askew on his face and said nothing. Gradually, Ming Zhu’s courage grew. He didn't dare leave Guining Zhenren’s side himself, so he sent Zhou Fuxue to buy things for him. By the time they had traversed two streets, his arms were already full of snacks.
They passed through a quiet, narrow, and deserted alley. At the end, in front of a building that looked like an ordinary residence, stood a massive banner. Upon it, the character for "Wine" was written in vigorous, sweeping calligraphy.
Ming Zhu, his mouth stuffed with a sugar-coated stir-fried hawthorn, poked his head out curiously from behind Guining Zhenren. "Master, what are we doing here?"
Guining said calmly, "Meeting an old friend."
For Guining Zhenren to refer to someone as an old friend, their cultivation and status were likely quite high.
Perhaps due to its remote location, there weren't many people in the tavern. Only a young attendant sat listlessly on the threshold, dozing off. Hearing footsteps, he immediately perked up and welcomed them inside.
Ming Zhu’s mouth hadn't stopped moving the entire way. As soon as he sat down, he hurriedly pulled the attendant over and asked, "What are your signature dishes?"
The attendant rattled off a long string of names in one breath. Ming Zhu didn't even catch them all before shouting, "I want them all."
Guining Zhenren glanced at him again. Ming Zhu immediately chickened out and muttered, "Then just bring a couple of random ones."
After saying that, he continued to eat his sugar-coated hawthorns with a look of grievance.
Guining Zhenren ignored him, ordered a jar of wine, and began to drink by himself, seemingly waiting for someone.
Ming Zhu finished the entire bag of hawthorns. Just as he was about to open the second bag, a set of light, slow footsteps echoed from outside the tavern. Then, someone lifted the hanging door curtain and walked in.
Because the person was backlit, Ming Zhu only saw who it was once they stepped closer.
Upon seeing the newcomer's face, Ming Zhu’s pupils constricted. He instinctively pressed his hand onto the sword resting on the table, intending to stand up, his face filled with wariness.
Guining sensed his unease and placed a hand on the back of Ming Zhu’s, giving it a gentle pat. Ming Zhu was instantly like a soothed small animal; he froze for a moment before forcing his tense body to relax and slowly sat back down. However, his gaze remained fixed deathly on the person before him.
Ming Zhao, with his hair loose and looking quite unkempt, sat down opposite Guining. He completely ignored Ming Zhu’s resentful glare and familiarly ordered a jar of wine from the attendant before giving a casual greeting: "Guining Zhenren, it’s been a long time. How are you still the same as ever? Not a single change."
Ming Zhu retracted his hand from Guining’s sword and turned his head away to drink wine with great reluctance, seemingly unwilling to even look at Ming Zhao.
Guining Zhenren exchanged a few pleasantries with him before asking, "Where is Mingzhong? He should have arrived earlier than the rest of us."
Ming Zhao replied, "Don't worry about him. We’ll discuss our business. Even if he comes, he won't be of much help—Tsk, this little brat, now that I look closely, how does he look so much like Mingzhong? Hey, kid, what was your name again?"
Zhou Fuxue’s expression had already soured upon hearing the name 'Mingzhong.' Hearing Ming Zhao tease him like a pet made his brow furrow. But on second thought, Ming Zhao’s nature was unrestrained; no matter how much of a scoundrel his personality was, he was still an elder. Thus, he prepared to swallow his anger and speak, but the person sitting beside him suddenly slapped the table.
"Who he is is none of your damn business!" Ming Zhu glared at him unceremoniously. Thinking it over, he still felt dissatisfied, so he pinched a hawthorn from the oil-paper bag and threw it at him.
Ming Zhao’s eyes curved into a smile. He caught the fruit swiftly and, instead of getting angry, stuffed it directly into his mouth. "Mm, this isn't bad. Where did you buy it? Give me a few more."
Ming Zhu looked at him in disbelief, seemingly shocked by his thick skin. He tugged at Guining’s sleeve and said sullenly, "Master, the old friend you mentioned is him? We have to eat at the same table as him this time?"
Guining Zhenren was sparing with his words: "Mm."
Ming Zhu said, "Then may your disciple take his leave first?"
Before Guining could speak, Ming Zhao had somehow squeezed Zhou Fuxue aside and shamelessly sat down next to Ming Zhu. He draped an arm over Ming Zhu’s neck, taking advantage of his long reach to grab the hawthorns in Ming Zhu’s lap. He said indistinctly, "We only see each other once every few years, and you're in such a hurry to leave me? Zhu'er, Father is so heartbroken."
Ming Zhao was a ghost cultivator. When half his body pressed against someone, they could clearly feel the continuous, bone-chilling aura radiating from him. Ming Zhu’s hair nearly stood on end, and his voice cracked: "What are you doing? Get away from me!"
Ming Zhao gave an "Oh" and swiftly snatched the bag of hawthorns before strolling back to his own seat.
Ming Zhu tugged at Guining’s sleeve listlessly. "Master, I want to go back and sleep."
Guining Zhenren didn't speak, only reaching out to gently press his forehead.
At that moment, Ye Weiyang, who had changed his clothes, lifted the curtain and walked in. He swept a casual glance around, cupped his fists slightly, and said, "Greetings, Senior."
A few years ago in a secret realm, Ming Zhao had his Spirit-Suppressing Lantern snatched by this green youth, Ye Weiyang. However, one matter was separate from the other; meeting now, he didn't give him the cold shoulder, saying simply, "Sit."
Ming Zhu pursed his lips and stood up. He gave Guining Zhenren a bow and turned to leave, intending to take Zhou Fuxue with him.
Ming Zhao tapped the table lightly, producing a series of soft sounds. Then, the shopkeeper, who had been dozing off nearby, suddenly opened his eyes. With a casual wave of his hand, a ward shimmering with blue light materialized on the spot, sealing the door shut.
Ming Zhu turned back in a rage. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Ming Zhao didn't speak, but Guining Zhenren said, "Take your things, go eat over there, and don't speak."
Ming Zhu’s anger vanished instantly, but he still glared fiercely at Ming Zhao. He led Zhou Fuxue to a distant corner, making a loud crunching sound as he bit into a piece of rock candy.
Once those three were seated together, they began a desultory conversation.
Ming Zhu’s anger subsided after a while. He leaned over the table, using the mask to cover half his face, and whispered to Zhou Fuxue, "Fuxue, can you hear what they're saying?"
Zhou Fuxue shook his head.
Ming Zhu was instantly disappointed and came up with a rotten idea. "Your cultivation is higher than mine. Can you extend your divine sense over there to listen in?"
He lay on the table, his eyes slightly shimmering with moisture like soaked glazed glass. The refusal Zhou Fuxue had intended to voice was instantly stuck in his throat. He turned his head away unnaturally and silently extended a thread of divine sense like a feeler. "I’ll try."
Ming Zhu perked up immediately. However, before that divine sense could even get within five paces of them, it was suddenly blocked by something. Zhou Fuxue jerked his divine sense back, pressing a hand to his forehead in pain.
Ming Zhu was startled. "Thirteen?"
Someone approached against the light, their footsteps extremely languid. Zhou Fuxue forced himself to look up through the headache and saw a man who looked remarkably similar to himself. The man was rubbing his hair, his handsome face full of lethargy. Even when he spoke, he only opened his lips a sliver, squeezing out each word with a lazy weakness.
"When adults are talking, children shouldn't interfere."
Zhou Fuxue was shocked. After a long pause, he said hoarsely, "Yes."
After saying that one sentence languidly, the man walked over to Guining Zhenren’s table and sat down. He propped his elbow against his cheek, his eyes downcast, looking so indolent it seemed he might fall asleep at any moment.
Guining said, "Mingzhong, where did you go?"
Zhou Mingzhong let out a yawn and said whiningly, "I got lost."
Beside him, Ming Zhao drank wine while looking at Zhou Mingzhong with a smile full of smug, annoying intent.
Zhou Mingzhong said, "Why are you smiling with that despicable look? If you have something to say, say it."
Ming Zhao leaned closer to Zhou Mingzhong and reached out to hook an arm
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Is Everyone Else's Eldest Disciple Like This? | Chapter 66 | A Blunt Inquiry | Novela.app | Novela.app
