The man in black smiled, poured the old man a cup of tea, and filled his own cup with wine.
They sat there in silence for a long time, sipping their drinks without exchanging a word.
The other guests in the tavern occasionally glanced at them, puzzled by this strange scene.
Dingling! After a while, the wind chime on the door jingled, signaling the entrance of a tall guest—he must have been over five feet tall (in ancient Chinese terms, this would have been notably tall), otherwise, he wouldn’t have brushed against the bell. The waiter glanced toward the door and saw that the man’s face was covered in dust, his expression weary but tinged with excitement.
“Big brother, this way!” The waiter directed him to a table behind the man in black, a secluded spot near the corner of the wall.
The newcomer was none other than Zhan Bie. As soon as he sat down, he said, “Give me a bowl of noodles and a pot of sand wine! Be quick, I’m in a hurry.”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter responded and hurried off.
Zhan Bie patted the letter in his chest pocket and let out a small sigh of relief. Still, his guard remained up—he couldn’t relax until he reached Yunpei. As he thought this, he scanned the noisy tavern, which was packed with merchants and travelers from all walks of life, many dressed in exotic clothing. The intoxicated ones were already causing a ruckus. But what drew Zhan Bie’s attention most was the table beside him: the imposing man in black and the tattered, elderly man.
The man in black was steadily drinking, his movements displaying a balance of strength and grace. His steady breathing gave off a faint but unmistakable sense of killing intent, though Zhan Bie wasn’t entirely certain. Meanwhile, the old man was engrossed in sipping his tea, ignoring the curious glances directed at him from all around.
“Old man, now that you’ve had your tea, why don’t you start talking about this ‘heavenly secret’ of yours?”
“Yeah! Stop drinking so much, or you might spill that little secret of yours!”
“The young master already treated you to tea, so stop pretending and just tell us!”
“Exactly! Tell us something to go along with our drinks!”
A few loud-mouthed patrons in the tavern began teasing the old man, and soon enough, more and more people joined in. Zhan Bie, intrigued, watched, curious about the old man's background.
“Alright! Alright! This old man will speak, I’ll speak!” The old man finally gave in, laughing. “Who knows, this might be the last time I speak.”
After downing enough tea, the old man hobbled over to a platform by the south wall of the tea house. His body appeared frail, but his face, now flushed and radiant, was a stark contrast to the haggard look he had when begging for tea earlier.
The crowd fell silent at once, watching this peculiar old man.
With a shake of his right hand, the old man slowly stroked his beard with his left, his bright eyes scanning the crowd below. He began to speak in a commanding, rhythmic voice.
“What I’m going to talk about is this: who is the true overlord in these chaotic times! You should know, the vast desert is home to over three hundred ethnic groups, with a total population of about ninety million nine hundred thousand. The largest group has no more than ten million people, while the smallest has only a few thousand. Five major political powers control the desert, arranged in a 'Wang' character formation across the north, center, and south. Yunpei and Tiandu occupy the two ends, while Huohe, Masui, and Mizhan hold the middle.”
“Rubbish! Old man, everyone knows that!”
The crowd murmured discontentedly, dissatisfied with the old man's speech, and complaints echoed throughout the room. The old man, unfazed, stroked his beard again and asked, “Alright! Then let me ask you this: of the five great powers, which one is the strongest?”
“Rubbish! Of course, it’s Yunpei!”
“Which one is the most conservative?”
“Well… that should be Mizhan. After all, it’s a religious nation.”
“Hmm… now, who is the most absurd?” The old man leaned forward over the edge of the platform, nearly tumbling off, startling the crowd.
“Old man, be careful! Don’t fall and break your neck,” the waiter muttered anxiously.
“What do you mean by 'the most absurd'?” The crowd fell silent, pondering for a moment before realizing the old man’s words were probably just a trick to get free food and drink. They all waved their hands in frustration, losing interest.
The old man let out a dry laugh. “Haha, foolish child! You probably haven’t left this snowy plain for months, have you? How much could you know about what’s going on outside?” He chided the young man who had complained the loudest. Then, his gaze shifted to Zhan Bie, sitting in the corner. “That man there, don’t just focus on eating your noodles. You just arrived in town, didn’t you? Why don’t you tell this foolish boy what’s happening in the outside world?”
Zhan Bie froze, suddenly finding himself the center of attention. Reluctantly, he wiped his mouth and stood up. “Well… it’s not very peaceful right now. The northern bandit armies have already reached the central desert. Just a few days ago, they completely surrounded Masui. If anyone here is from Masui, I’d advise against returning; things are chaotic over there.”
As soon as he finished, the tavern fell silent. The old man, however, jumped up on the platform. “Haha, my friend, your news is outdated.”
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