Chapter 155: Chapter 155

‘That’s…’

‘A storage treasure!’

Shen Xiuhan’s breath caught. He stared at the wine-set on the stone table, his mind reeling.

He’d seen it clearly — the man’s palm had been empty a heartbeat ago.

A turn of the hand, a brush of the sleeve, and the pot and cups had peeled out of nothingness, settling neatly on the tabletop.

No sleight of hand. No trick of the eye.

Only the fabled “storage treasures” of legend could explain it.

And such treasures did appear in the ancient texts.

According to the records, they had been crafted by primordial cultivators using precious materials and arcane methods. Each one contained a pocket of folded space — objects could be stored inside and carried invisibly on one’s person.

He’d assumed they were vanishingly rare. He hadn’t expected to see one with his own eyes.

The young man acted as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He lifted the wine-pot. A slight tilt of the wrist, and amber liquid flowed into the two cups in a steady, gleaming stream.

Instantly, a long, mellow fragrance — laced with the clean scent of herbs and wild wood — unfurled through the little courtyard.

Shen Xiuhan’s nose twitched. Two light breaths, and a crisp, bracing qi traveled straight down into his lungs.

The qi-blood that had been resting dormant inside him stirred of its own accord — surging, quickening, alive.

‘Powerful medicinal force… this must be a spirit wine!’

Shen Xiuhan marveled inwardly.

The young man slid one jade cup across the table, then gestured at the opposite bench with an easy smile.

“My true name is Zuo Muxian. Call me Brother Zuo.”

Zuo Muxian…

Shen Xiuhan rolled the name silently across his tongue.

He looked at the man again.

Moon-white robe. Peerless features. Smiling eyes. An air that set him apart from the mortal world.

A true immortal’s bearing — the name fit like a glove.

Shen Xiuhan settled onto the bench as invited, accepted the cup, and took a careful sip.

The first sensation was a delicate coolness. Then warmth bloomed from his throat, spreading through his chest and outward to every limb.

His eyes lit up.

No more hesitation — he tipped his head and drained the cup.

The liquid transformed into a surge of potent medicinal qi that roared through his meridians, mingling with his qi-blood, nourishing the five viscera and six bowels.

Every pore on his body opened, as though he’d sunk into a medicinal bath — bliss from crown to sole.

The wine had clearly been brewed from precious herbs. A single cup rivaled a full treasure pill in effect.

That one draught alone had set the fifth aperture — the Huiyin — humming faintly, his cultivation nudging forward.

Shen Xiuhan set the cup down, unable to hold back a word of praise.

“Fine wine!”

“Ha ha!”

Zuo Muxian laughed, a gleam of pride in his eye. He reached over and refilled the cup.

“It’s called Nine-Bend Twin-Leaf Wine — brewed from nine spirit grasses, three treasure herbs, and twin-leaf fruit, fermented for three full years. Not bad, is it? Here, have another.”

He poured as he talked, words tumbling out, his manner warm and unreserved.

At the end, he added in a tone of genuine enthusiasm:

“By the way — your family’s noodle broth is rich and full-bodied. Perfect for pairing with wine. It puts that ‘Zhang Jinji’ signature noodle from the prefectural city to shame…”

Shen Xiuhan understood at once.

Liang Xiuhe had mentioned a customer from the prefectural city who’d been eating noodles. That had been Zuo Muxian.

But he was in no mood for more drinking. He set the cup down, composed his expression, and clasped his fists.

“Brother Zuo… the wine is excellent, but poured into a troubled belly, even the finest vintage loses its savor. A waste of heaven’s gift. Why don’t we… talk business first.”

Zuo Muxian set his own cup aside. The easygoing smile remained, but his gaze settled on Shen Xiuhan with quiet attention.

“You, young man… truly impatient. Just like Ah-Nang.”

“Ah-Nang?”

Shen Xiuhan blinked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

“Who’s Ah-Nang?”

“Oh — that’s the big black tortoiseshell my sister kept when she was small.”

Zuo Muxian said it as lightly as commenting on the weather, the smile still in place.

Shen Xiuhan’s face went dark.

The solemn atmosphere he’d been carefully constructing shattered into a thousand pieces.

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, tried again, and finally squeezed a single line through his teeth.

“…Brother Zuo jests.”

“Ha ha ha — all right, all right, I’ll stop teasing.”

Zuo Muxian laughed, then passed his fair, slender hand three inches above the stone table.

The white jade wine-set vanished like a burst soap-bubble — as though it had never existed.

In the same breath, the laughter left his eyes entirely. He sat up straight, his gaze deepening to the color of a still lake, and looked at Shen Xiuhan.

“Speak. What are your terms?”

The directness caught Shen Xiuhan slightly off-guard. He pressed his lips together, then said in a low voice:

“I need you to act on my behalf twice. The opponents… are Transforming Strength.”

“That’s all?” One brow rose.

“That’s all.”

“Done.”

Zuo Muxian agreed without a heartbeat’s hesitation. The warmth and levity vanished as though a switch had been flipped — a completely different man. His voice betrayed nothing.

“The father and son… where are they now?”

“The son, Gao Nian, died by my hand half a year ago.”

Shen Xiuhan’s gaze dipped, then lifted.

“I learned the truth from his own mouth. As for the father, Gao Fu… he’s currently on Chenjian Wu’s Dongyi Island — their newly appointed Fifth Chief.”

“Dead…”

Zuo Muxian’s eyes narrowed. His fair, slender fingers tapped the stone table unconsciously.

“He got off easy.”

Silence held for a moment. Then he raised his gaze to Shen Xiuhan.

“Chenjian Wu…”

“The man you want me to deal with — is he one of theirs?”

“He is.”

Shen Xiuhan nodded, speaking frankly.

“Chenjian Wu’s Great Chief, Duan Xiao. He broke through to Transforming Strength a few months ago. Early stage, by current estimates.”

“Why do you want him dead?”

The question came suddenly. Zuo Muxian tilted his head, curiosity bright in his eyes — like a child pressing for the next page of a story.

“…”

Shen Xiuhan was quiet for a beat.

Then he drew a deep breath and held nothing back. He laid out the full picture: the Bai family’s mass abduction of children for human-pill refinement; Chenjian Wu’s complicity in the atrocity; Bai Qingcang’s departure for Guangwu Commandery; Duan Xiao’s secret entry into the Bai estate to stand guard…

And his own alliance with a group of like-minded fighters, planning a night raid on the Bai estate to root out the evil — held back only by the threat of Duan Xiao.

Every tangled thread, laid bare.

“Refining human pills from the living… demonic filth!”

Zuo Muxian’s gaze went sub-zero. A cold snort escaped him, laced with undisguised revulsion.

“Then it’s truly my good fortune!”

“I came to avenge my family’s blood and slay my enemy. And on the very same road, I can cut down this great evil as well. Even if it costs me a wound or two, the trip is worth every step!”

With that, he shot to his feet — looking for all the world as though he meant to charge Dongyi Island single-handed, right this moment.

Shen Xiuhan’s expression blanked. He instinctively grabbed the man’s arm.

“Brother Zuo, you—”

“Ha ha ha — I knew you’d be the careful sort, little brother. You’d never let me walk into that tiger’s den alone.”

Zuo Muxian turned back. The icy edge melted in an instant, replaced by that breezy, laughing manner.

“Come, come — we’ll go together, watch each other’s backs on the road.”