342: Actively spying on information

Now, Shen Bei, with the help of the odd object mask, had to be extremely cautious even to enter Cold Water Town, which was alien territory.

But now, as Shen Bei entered the tavern, hoping to try his luck and gather some intelligence, he actually found a genuine human, sitting conspicuously in the hall, eating meat and drinking wine!

However, this human's left sleeve was empty, as if his limb had been severed.

This greatly surprised and puzzled Shen Bei.

Looking again, he then realized that this human was not alone; several aliens with extraordinary temperaments were also seated at the same table.

It seemed they were a group.

Perhaps these few aliens had special identities, which was why the other aliens in the tavern did not eye this human with covetous desire.

“Did you see him?”

Shen Bei sat in a corner, ordered a few small dishes, and asked Zhuang Bifan in the mirror, “There’s a human over there.”

Zhuang Bifan had already seen him through the mirror’s reflection, and his voice was full of doubt: “Strange… it’s not that there are no humans who mix with aliens, but they are always very discreet, at least they wouldn’t openly appear in public places, and even if they did, they wouldn’t come to a tavern.”

Shen Bei propped his chin with one hand, occasionally glancing at the human.

The human man was slender, with neatly combed hair that was neither long nor short, looking refined and handsome, but with a pale complexion, and his eyes constantly gleamed with a faint, eerie emerald green, as if containing an unspeakable danger, giving him a bizarre and unfathomable aura.

He ate slowly and deliberately while conversing with the aliens at his table, but his voice was too low for Shen Bei to hear clearly.

“It’s quite a skill to be able to mingle with aliens while maintaining one’s human appearance,” Shen Bei raised an eyebrow and continued in a low voice, “Could this guy be a meat vendor?”

Zhuang Bifan’s uncertain voice came through: “Probably not. Human meat vendors are very cautious, afraid of being seen by others, and certainly wouldn’t appear openly in a place like this. But you can never tell, unless you catch him and interrogate him, then the answer would be obvious.”

At this point, the small dishes Shen Bei ordered had arrived. Shen Bei glanced at them, picked up a peanut, and crunched it in his mouth.

The taste… was quite crisp and delicious, with an indescribable aroma of herbs, spreading in his mouth, giving a pleasant sensation like a sheep grazing on fresh, tender grass.

Shen Bei then asked, “Does this guy have any value to us?”

“You know the answer,”

Zhuang Bifan replied indifferently.

Shen Bei shrugged. He naturally knew in his heart that this person was almost of no value to him.

The source of intelligence still had to rely on aliens from various places.

Even if this guy was a meat vendor, Shen Bei didn't want to meddle in other people's affairs at the moment; his ultimate goal was only one, and that was to find the Martial Dao Pinnacle, and other matters should be avoided if possible.

“Let’s not stir up trouble. I don’t think those accompanying aliens are easy to deal with,”

Shen Bei muttered.

Back then, Third Master had only made a fleeting appearance in Qianlin City of Luan County Earth Cave before entering an alien’s house.

And for this human to be able to eat and drink in a tavern accompanied by aliens, with other aliens not daring to act or even look directly at him.

It showed that these accompanying aliens held significant status; bothering them would be like poking a hornet’s nest.

“Then just listen, don’t speak,”

Zhuang Bifan dropped this sentence and fell silent.

Shen Bei pricked up his ears, constantly listening to the conversations of the surrounding aliens.

Until that human left, Shen Bei still hadn't obtained any valuable information.

The aliens in the tavern mostly talked about navigating the Lengshui River.

Things like encountering strange fish.

Things like cargo falling into the river.

Miscellaneous matters like river bandits.

Shen Bei listened until he was drowsy, but still didn’t gain any valuable information.

What Shen Bei needed were rumors and anecdotes, not recent trivialities.

Leaving the tavern, Shen Bei casually found an inn to stay in.

The inn was naturally no match for hotels in the earth's surface.

Although it was all ancient-style decor, Shen Bei wasn't a historian and couldn't appreciate it.

The bed was also hard.

Fortunately, it provided shelter from the wind and rain.

Shen Bei activated his Breath Concealment Art, suppressing his life magnetic field to its lowest.

Then, he slowly reached out and took off the mask.

Zhuang Bifan was momentarily stunned, then quipped, “You’re quite capable, being able to control your life aura.”

“I smell a sour stench of jealousy,”

Shen Bei replied.

Zhuang Bifan: …

At this moment, Shen Bei slowly removed the mask.

With a sound of tearing glue, the mask was taken off by Shen Bei.

The next moment.

Shen Bei’s appearance collapsed like a sand pile, returning to his original human form.

He glanced at himself in the full-length mirror a few times.

There was no change in the facial features, but his skin was abnormally red, as if splattered with pig’s blood.

“This thing has quite a backlash,” Shen Bei bared his teeth, gesturing at the mirror, complaining somewhat, “My face is all red, like it’s been boiled by a crab.”

Zhuang Bifan’s tone was also a bit heavy: “It seems you can’t wear it for too long. You must cherish the precious time.”

Shen Bei nodded: “I can’t just sit around tomorrow; I need to take the initiative.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I guess Cold Water Town also has storytellers. Even if storytellers fabricate stories, they need a certain amount of rumors and facts to adapt, so I assume storytellers have a lot of unofficial histories and rumors in their heads.”

“Good idea!”

Zhuang Bifan couldn't help but praise him.

If one thought with an earth's surface mindset, who would think of storytellers?

But the landscape of the Earth Cave World was similar to ancient China.

As entertainers, storytellers would naturally exist.

This was a very good Breakthrough point.

Shen Bei lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, then turned his head to look at the full-length mirror on the side, asking, “You say, what is the relationship between the Earth Cave World and the earth's surface?”

Zhuang Bifan was silent for a moment, then his voice came from the mirror: “Why are you suddenly asking this question?”

“Don’t you think they’re very similar?”

Shen Bei pointed to everything in the room: “This decor, the bed, the window lattice, the chairs—it’s enough to film an ancient drama.”

Zhuang Bifan said in a flat tone, “Regarding this, domestic experts have a theory—”

Before Zhuang Bifan could finish, Shen Bei interrupted him directly: “I don’t want to hear from experts; I only want to hear from you.”

“Me?” Zhuang Bifan chuckled: “I never think about such things; I only care about my appearance.”

“You truly are loyal to your true self,”

“This is called living authentically,”

“How does Bai Wei see it?”

“Temporal dislocation,”

Zhuang Bifan simply said four words.

Shen Bei yawned and smacked his lips: “A textbook explanation.”

Zhuang Bifan’s tone was somewhat light: “It’s the most reasonable explanation. Perhaps there are others, but without sufficient evidence and exploration, this is the only answer that makes sense.”

Shen Bei shrugged, no longer thinking about other things.

What Earth Cave World, what barrier world across the earth's surface Cave Ocean, was currently too distant for Shen Bei.

Only by standing high could one see far, and Shen Bei still had a long way to go.

At this moment, the paper window reflected the moonlight, casting a white frost-like glow on the ground.

Curfew had arrived, and Cold Water Town slowly fell asleep.

“It’s the middle of the night, mind the fire— ”

Accompanied by the loud clang of a gong, the watchman’s voice echoed through the empty and silent streets and alleys.

Only at this time were the cities of the earth's surface Cave and human camps similar.

Equally empty and silent, without human voices or lights. Everything was in slumber.

…

The next day.

After the first crow of a rooster sounded in the distance, the crowing became continuous, breaking the morning’s tranquility and bringing a sense of hustle and bustle to this port town.

The faint morning light filtered through the paper window, shining in from outside. Looking through the light beams, many dust particles swirled and danced.

Shen Bei felt nauseous, put on the odd object mask, tidied himself up, and went out.

This mask truly lived up to the saying: once you wear a mask for too long, you can’t take it off.

He left the room.

Shen Bei, carrying the mirror, surveyed Cold Water Town.

Cold Water Town’s structure was very simple; from the South Gate to the North Gate was a straight main street. If one had good eyesight, standing at the South Gate, one could see the North Gate at a glance. Of course, this good eyesight referred to Martial Artists.

After all, no ordinary person could see twenty li away at a glance.

After some inquiries, Shen Bei arrived at a teahouse.

It took Shen Bei a great deal of effort to find out the storyteller’s regular location.

Of course, finding this place was not difficult.

The difficulty was that Shen Bei and the local inhabitants had distinctly different names for a storyteller.

Here, a storyteller was not called a storyteller.

Instead, they were called Immortal Storyteller.

This peculiar name made Shen Bei expend immense effort to connect it with 'storyteller'.

Generally speaking, Immortal Storyteller were divided into two types: one type was permanently stationed in teahouses, restaurants, and brothels, telling stories to tea drinkers, diners, and patrons. Their fees were typically a commission from the owner, because good storytellers would attract business for the owner.

The other type wandered the streets, finding a temporary spot to tell a few segments and relying on the surrounding crowd for tips.

Shen Bei arrived at a fortunate time.

There happened to be a Immortal Storyteller, spitting as he spoke, eloquently narrating some interesting anecdotes.

This Immortal Storyteller alien’s image was similar to the storytellers Shen Bei had seen in films and television dramas.

They all used folding fans and clappers as props. They usually wore long gowns, could stand or sit while speaking, and used dialect to tell long chapter-based stories or short segments.

They also used artistic techniques such as describing plots, narrating scenes, imitating characters, and commenting on events to tell historical legends, myths, or contemporary stories, relying entirely on their verbal skills, much like a solo stand-up comedian.

Shen Bei sat in a corner, unhurried and calm, just listening quietly.

The story the Immortal Storyteller was telling now, Shen Bei didn’t understand.

Mainly because it had no beginning and no end.

However, Shen Bei’s generosity with tips was remarkable.

He threw gold beans with abandon.

Anyway, it wasn’t his own money; it all came from Zhuang Bifan’s mirror’s reserves.

He threw so many that Zhuang Bifan grimaced, almost jumping out of the mirror to give Shen Bei a few electric shocks.

Shen Bei paid no attention to Zhuang Bifan’s emotions; this tipping was simply too enjoyable!

No wonder some people who watch live streams would sell everything they owned just to tip the streamers.

It was very easy to lose oneself in the constant calls of “Big Brother.”

After the Immortal Storyteller finished his storytelling, he personally ran over to Shen Bei’s seat, bowing and thanking him.

It was like a female streamer meeting her top supporter offline.

“Your words bloom like lotuses, vivid and captivating,” Shen Bei raised his chin, yet his posture conveyed a sense of unmoving solidity, like an unshakable mountain, praising him.

The Immortal Storyteller, on the other hand, seemed a little embarrassed, smiling as he said, “It is Young Master’s kindness.”

Shen Bei slowly stood up and said, “I haven’t heard enough. How about we go somewhere else and talk over drinks?”

“As Young Master wishes,”

This Immortal Storyteller was quite discerning, following Shen Bei to the tavern.

They ordered a private room, and food and wine were served.

The two sat facing each other.

Shen Bei first placed some gold nuggets on the table and slowly began, “I don’t want to hear stories that have been processed and adapted.”

“Then what would you like to hear?” the Immortal Storyteller asked, looking at the gold nuggets with some excitement.

“Folk rumors, especially secret stories about some great powerful beings,”

Shen Bei said bluntly.