330: Chapter 330 Corpses across the field

A chill shot from the soles of his feet straight to his crown, numbing his limbs as if he had been tossed into an ice cellar.

He opened his mouth, but only wheezing sounds emerged from his throat, like a fish tossed onto the shore; he could not spit out a single word.

He could only hurriedly bow, his waist bent like a shrimp facing the moon, not daring to even breathe heavily, watching helplessly as the two figures passed by with their robes fluttering, stirring up a crisp breeze.

Chu Changsheng, familiar with the path, led Luo Xiaojiu back to the window-side private booth from before.

Pushing open the carved wooden window, the street scene outside remained bustling, with traffic and crowds reflecting the daylight; the sounds of peddling and laughter drifted in with the breeze, the lively atmosphere of the mortal world washing over them.

Yet, the table was already completely empty.

The "feast" that had previously been spread with delicacies had clearly been cleared away by the waiter, leaving not even a speck of grease or a trace of the food's aroma, as if it had never existed, like a forgotten dream.

Luo Xiaojiu stood by the table, feeling somewhat awkward, her fingers unconsciously twisting the corner of her garment.

This corner was already covered in several patches, and after her twisting, it was even more wrinkled, like a crumpled rag, hanging down pitifully.

She stole a glance, timidly observing Chu Changsheng's profile—his lean jawline was taut and straight, as if carved from cold jade, without a single superfluous curve.

The outline of his profile, caught in the daylight filtering through the window, was covered in a layer of cold, hard light and shadow, making him appear even more distant, as if separated by an invisible barrier.

She truly could not guess what tricks this Revered Master had up his sleeve.

Could it be... that he truly wanted her to play the host again and treat him to another meal?

But from head to toe, let alone silver, she couldn't even find a single copper coin; her pockets were cleaner than her face—even a mouse entering her pocket would have to come out in tears.

Was she supposed to dismantle herself to pay the bill?

Selling her wouldn't even cover the cost of this table of food!

Just as she was letting her imagination run wild, the door to the private room was lightly knocked.

"Knock, knock, knock—"

Three sounds, neither light nor heavy, as if tapping on her heart.

Soon after, a familiar aroma surged in, scrambling to enter; it aggressively penetrated her nostrils like an invisible hand reaching directly into her stomach, giving it a fierce scratch.

Luo Xiaojiu's nose twitched violently, as if hooked by something—then her eyes widened into perfect circles, like two lit little lanterns, bright enough to reflect a person's shadow.

She saw the waiters entering in single file, carrying gold-traced trays, their footsteps as light as if they were walking on clouds.

The dishes she had ordered earlier were brought up without a single one missing, the plating even more exquisite than before; even the plates had been replaced with more expensive ones, their edges traced with gold thread, shimmering with fragmented light under the candlelight.

The bright red braised pork knuckle lay in a white porcelain plate, its skin glistening with an amber-colored sheen, trembling and swaying in the plate; a light touch seemed enough to make it melt.

The sheen flickered under the candlelight, as if winking at her; just looking at it made her throat roll wildly, and saliva couldn't stop flowing.

The steamed sea bass lay in an ice-crackle celadon plate, its fish eyes clear like glazed glass, its gills tinged with a fresh, tender crimson; the sauce drizzled over it flowed slowly along the fish's texture, pooling into delicate patterns at the bottom of the plate, the fresh aroma hitting her nose and stimulating her appetite so intensely she wanted to lick the plate clean.

And there was the Emerald White Jade Soup—green vegetable leaves floated on the milky white surface of the soup like two small boats, wisps of steaming heat rising, wrapping around the crisp, fresh fragrance, drilling straight into one's breath, as if soothing one's very organs, every pore screaming, "Drink it."

Even the carved garnishes showed ingenuity—lotus flowers carved from radishes seemed about to bloom in the plate, the petals so thin they were translucent, lifelike, as if a bee would land on them the next second.

Luo Xiaojiu widened her eyes, looking at the table full of steaming, fragrant delicacies, then at Chu Changsheng, who had already sat down leisurely across from her.

His expression remained calm and waveless, as if this table of delicacies were nothing more than ordinary side dishes, and everything was only natural; he didn't even lift an eyelid.

For a moment, she forgot to move, even the instinct to swallow her saliva stalled for a moment; she only felt that aroma lingering on the tip of her tongue, making her heart itch, as if thousands of ants were crawling on it.

"Sit down."

Chu Changsheng picked up the mutton-fat jade chopsticks on the table; his distinct, bony fingers gripped the glistening white jade, his fingertips pressing against the cool jade surface, indescribably elegant, every movement like a painting.

His tone remained indifferent, yet carried an unquestionable majesty, like the ice and snow on a mountain peak, allowing no debate, nor any resistance.

Only then did Luo Xiaojiu wake from her dream, swallowing hard and emitting a soft "gulp" sound, which was exceptionally clear in the quiet private room.

She carefully moved to the chair opposite and sat down, her footsteps as light as a thieving kitten, fearing that even the slightest sound would disturb the "Immortal" at the table.

Her spine was straight, her hands placed properly on her knees, her fingertips gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, her knuckles turning white—a perfect picture of a well-behaved child.

But her eyes seemed soul-hooked by the dishes on the table; several times her gaze wanted to stick to that plate of braised pork knuckle, as if glued on, only to be forced back, staring fixedly at her patched hem, trying hard to maintain a well-behaved appearance of "I am good, I know the rules."

The experience of being "caught in the act" earlier was still vivid in her mind; she didn't want to provoke this Revered Master's ire again—if she were thrown out of the restaurant, she would truly be at her wit's end, not even knowing where she would sleep tonight.

Chu Changsheng, however, did not move his chopsticks, only lowering his eyes to look at her.

His ink-black eyes were bottomless, as if hiding an entire heavy, starry sky; the starlight was brilliant, yet so cold that one dared not look directly at it, as if one more glance would freeze them solid with that chill, freezing even their bones.

Luo Xiaojiu felt extremely uncomfortable under his gaze, thin sweat quietly seeping through the clothes on her back, sticking to her skin, feeling terribly uncomfortable, like countless ants crawling on her back.

That bit of feigned shyness and propriety was already tottering under the continuous assault of the soul-stirring aroma from the full table, like a flickering candle in a gale, its flame dimming and brightening, ready to extinguish at any moment, with only the last spark struggling to hold on.

This standoff lasted only a brief moment.

Yet to Luo Xiaojiu, it felt as long as a century.

She finally couldn't hold back—her eyelashes fluttered gently, like a butterfly flapping its wings, as she stole a glance, timidly observing Chu Changsheng's expression, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, almost drowned out by the wind outside the window:

"Revered Master... are these for me to eat?"

"Mm."

Chu Changsheng finally responded, his voice as light as a feather landing on water, not stirring the slightest ripple.

Only then did he pick up the jade chopsticks, slowly picking up a portion of the stir-fried seasonal vegetables in front of him, his movements elegant and unhurried, every curve just right, as if he were not eating a meal, but admiring a rare treasure, even his chewing carrying an indescribable charm.

This light "Mm" was, to Luo Xiaojiu, nothing less than an amnesty—more effective than an emperor's decree, instantly shattering all her restraint and anxiety.

The bit of feigned shyness and anxiety in her eyes was instantly swept away by immense surprise and instinctive desire, like ice and snow meeting the warm sun, melting away completely, leaving not even a trace.

"Thank you, Revered Master!"

She cheered, her voice wrapped in irrepressible joy, like a bird released from a cage; no longer caring about any ladylike demeanor, she grabbed the ebony chopsticks at her side and launched a fierce assault on that plate of tempting braised pork knuckle.

The speed at which the chopsticks fell was astonishing, bringing a gust of wind, "whoosh," and diving straight into the pork knuckle; she was like a different person compared to her restraint just a moment ago, as if she had been swapped.

She ate with extreme devotion, her cheeks stuffed full, like a little squirrel that had succeeded in stealing food; grease stained her cheeks, and sauce smeared her nose tip, the whole person looking as if she had been fished out of an oil vat, yet she was completely unaware, her mind filled only with the word "delicious."

In her eyes, only the glow of satisfaction remained, as if tempered with honey, startlingly bright, as if the whole world were concentrated in this table of food.

While wolfing down the food, she mumbled indistinctly: "Delicious... too delicious... Revered Master, you eat too..."

Occasionally choking on a piece of meat, she would grab the soup bowl at her side, tilt her head back, and gulp down a mouthful of Emerald White Jade Soup; the soup flowed down the corner of her lips, but she didn't bother to wipe it, and after catching her breath, she immediately plunged back into this "battle," as if racing against the dishes on the table.

Sweeping away the remnants like a storm, hearty and uninhibited.

It was as if she wanted to make up for all the drifting years, all the meals missed, all the hunger, all the grievances and bitterness, in this single meal, completely making up for it, without leaving a single bite.

From beginning to end, Chu Changsheng only quietly ate a few light dishes; as his jade chopsticks rose and fell, he remained that same calm and indifferent figure, as if everything around him had nothing to do with him.

His gaze occasionally landed on her wolfing-down appearance, and in those eyes that were always indifferent, a faint ripple seemed to flash—like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, spreading an imperceptible ripple, too fast to catch, fleeting in an instant.

Immediately, he shifted his gaze, looking at the street scene outside the window, his gaze distant, as if piercing through thousands of mountains and rivers, landing in some unknown distance.

Sunlight passed through the carved window lattice, landing on his slender fingers, plating them with a layer of warm, gentle halo, and making the cool jade chopsticks appear even more glistening white, as if congealed with a layer of thin frost.

He seemed not to care about her wolfing-down eating manner, nor did he offer a single word of reminder about "decorum," just letting her immerse herself in this simplest, most straightforward satisfaction and happiness—like indulging a small beast returning to its nest, having finally found a place to sleep peacefully.

Until Luo Xiaojiu's movements gradually slowed down.

She cradled her round, bulging belly, leaning against the back of the chair, and let out a satisfied belch, the sound long and loud, echoing several times in the quiet private room.

Looking at the last few pieces of dim sum left on the table, her round eyes darted back and forth between the osmanthus cake and the mung bean pastry, like a conflicted little glutton, hesitating about which one to favor first, her eyebrows knitted together as if contemplating the greatest problem in life.

Just at this moment, the loud talk from the neighboring table pierced through the thin gauze curtain of the private room, clearly drilling in, like an invisible knife, cutting through the peace of the room.

"Hey, have you heard? The Myriad Demon Palace, one of the five great super powers in the Central Province, has been uprooted!"

A middle-aged merchant wearing a brocade robe with a protruding belly deliberately lowered his voice, but the awe and excitement in his tone could not be hidden; his voice seemed to have hooks, instantly catching the ears of those around him, and even the diners at the neighboring tables quietly pricked up their ears.

"What? The Myriad Demon Palace?"

His companion at the table, upon hearing this, was so shocked that the white jade wine cup in his hand almost fell to the ground; most of the wine in the cup spilled, splashing onto the table, but he was completely unaware, gasping a breath of cold air, his voice changing pitch, trembling with disbelief:

"This is a cultivation Holy Land that has been passed down for tens of thousands of years, with an Immortal presiding over it! Who in the Central Province doesn't fear it? Who dares to move against it? And who could even do it!"

His voice echoed in the quiet hall, like a pebble thrown into the center of a lake, stirring up layers of ripples.

"It's absolutely true!"

Another person hurriedly chimed in, their voice filled with uncontrollable panic and excitement, as if they had personally experienced that catastrophe, their fingers even trembling slightly:

"I have a distant cousin who does business there; he was lucky enough to escape with his life, but when he returned, his soul had been scared away, and he couldn't even speak clearly! According to him, it was a mysterious person, single-handedly, wielding a long sword, who directly slaughtered their way to the core Forbidden Ground of the Myriad Demon Palace—the Myriad Demon Tomb!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the originally noisy and bustling hall became eerily quiet.

The crisp sounds of cups clinking and the lively chatter instantly vanished, as if someone had pressed a pause button. Many diners stopped their chopsticks, pricked up their ears, and even softened their breathing, fearing they would miss a single word.

The air was filled with tension and curiosity, so thick it was almost about to solidify into substance.

The merchant in the brocade robe, seeing that everyone was attracted by him, became even more spirited; he cleared his throat, picked up his wine cup, took a sip to moisten his throat, and continued to speak vividly:

"That person's cultivation was unfathomable; it is said that he was at least a supreme expert at the Immortal realm! The seven Grand Elders of the Myriad Demon Palace, all at the Undergoing Tribulation stage, came out in full force, joining hands to set up the Myriad Demon Immortal-Slaughtering Great Array that shook the Central Province; the array patterns spread for thousands of miles, demon mist surged, and even the sun and moon were obscured!"

His voice became increasingly impassioned, gesturing wildly, as if he had seen it with his own eyes:

"Yet that mysterious person was completely fearless, and with just one person and one sword, he forcibly slashed through that great array!"

"That sword light... that sword light was said to be ten thousand feet long, like the Milky Way pouring down, brilliant and dazzling; wherever it passed, demon blood fell like rain, corpses scattered across the wilds, and even the mountain rocks were cleaved into powder!"

"The Disciples of the Myriad Demon Palace suffered countless casualties; even the treasure that guarded the Palace, the 'Myriad Demon Banner'—a supreme treasure refined from tens of thousands of demon souls—was split in two by his sword, the demon souls scattered, and wails filled the wilds!"

"Hiss—"

A collective gasp of cold air sounded throughout the hall.

The sounds gathered together, like a gust of cold wind, blowing the gauze curtain of the private room to sway slightly, and even the candlelight flickered a few times in response.

The air was instantly filled with thick awe and fear, like an invisible fog, shrouding the top of everyone's head.