RPAGF Chapter 89 It's not easy to be a benevolent person.
Chapter 89 It's not easy to be a benevolent person.
Chapter 89 It's not easy to be a benevolent person.
Pingchuan.
This large city, with its convenient water transport and thriving commerce, attracts people from all walks of life. But whether they are big shots or small fry, everyone needs to find something to satisfy their hunger at mealtimes.
In Pingchuan, there were small street shops catering to laborers and manual laborers, selling a bowl of murky, wine-flavored water for one coin and a bowl of rotten meat noodles for three coins. All the customers in the shops wore short jackets that were convenient for working.
There were also luxury restaurants catering exclusively to the powerful and wealthy, where the cheapest vintage wines were only one tael of silver for a small pot, and the cups, plates, and bowls were all made of the finest porcelain, with guests dressed in brocade and fine clothes.
Those well-off families who weren't particularly wealthy but certainly not poor would go to mid-range restaurants. These restaurants were more upscale than small shops, but they wouldn't turn away any customers, and the prices varied from person to person. Even the poorest dockworkers could grit their teeth and cross the threshold, lay out a dozen or so coins on the counter, order a bowl of hot rice wine, a plate of hot dried bean curd strips, or a spoonful of stir-fried frog legs, and slowly enjoy their meal.
This is also the favorite workplace for storytellers, as they tell stories that are popular with the masses.
Tell a story, recount a play, chat about the latest news in the martial arts world, recount the legends of famous figures throughout history, and secretly whisper the secrets of the beauties on the list of most beautiful women.
If the customers in the shop liked what they heard, they would throw out a few copper coins and shout, "Give me a treat!"
Mo Weiren liked to eat at mid-range restaurants like this and sit there for an hour. This was a rare moment of peace for him during the day. He didn't need to practice his skills or worry about internal affairs. He could relax both his body and mind.
Everyone seeks activities to relieve stress, especially high-ranking people who always have countless worries to dispel.
Mo Weiren deals with a bunch of idiots and fools he looks down on every day. He has to lower his own intelligence to the same level as these people in order for them to understand his instructions. In the end, the results these idiots present are always shoddy and flawed, and he has to suppress his anger and correct and improve them bit by bit.
The biggest challenge for smart people in this world is dealing with fools, yet they cannot do without these fools, otherwise their own energy would be insufficient to handle the numerous affairs.
Mo Weiren also knew that intelligent people all had their own ideas and would eventually have second thoughts, so no matter how much he disliked stupid people, he would not let truly intelligent people stay by his side.
In his youth, Mo Weiren worked as a schoolteacher. He would select gifted children, some of whom were children of serfs, to teach and preach to. He would tell them about the wonders of the world and how they would grasp things very quickly, which pleased Mo Weiren greatly.
When he's happy, he'll say many things he shouldn't, such as his troubles, weaknesses, and work details. These children often give him some childlike comfort and innocent advice. Mo Weiren is truly grateful to them, so even now, his private collection still contains many leather drums and bone flutes, each with a name.
Yan Suiyi was the best craftsman under his command. Mo Weiren always took this fool with him, and Yan Suiyi gradually transformed from an ordinary believer into a guru who enjoyed offerings.
Mo Weiren is now old, and his physical decline caused by the calamity is incurable. As people age, their hearts soften, so he no longer relies on teaching children to relieve his worries.
Now he enjoys doing something else: telling fortunes for people who are good at it.
All the charlatans, fortune tellers, sorcerers, divination masters, and all sorts of other shady professions make money by deceiving people. They call deceiving people "fortune telling" and say that you can't tell your own fortune because heavenly secrets cannot be revealed.
Those who do this kind of thing must consider themselves smart, because no morally corrupt swindler would not feel smug. Over time, they will regard all customers who pay money as fools who deserve to be fooled.
Therefore, Mo Weiren liked to tell fortunes for these people. With his martial arts skills and power, he was practically a god to these ordinary people. If he said there would be bloodshed, someone would definitely die; if he said there would be unexpected wealth, someone would definitely make money.
Once these fortune tellers are convinced of the concept of destiny, Mo Weiren will observe their lives afterward to see whether they continue to deceive people or change their profession.
In the north of Pingchuan City, there is a restaurant called Siliuchun. The waiter at the door shouts loudly that a storyteller has arrived today, attracting many passersby to come in. Even if they don't want to have morning tea, it's still interesting to listen to the lively story.
A crowd gathered in the hall. Today's storytellers were a fat man and a thin man, dressed in clean patchwork robes, clearly members of the Beggars' Sect. With a bang of the clapper, the fat beggar finished reciting the opening poem, and the two began to tell the story, one praising and the other teasing.
"Esteemed guests, are you aware that just yesterday, a momentous event occurred in the city of Tiannan Prefecture, at the foot of the White Egret Sword Sect on Yanwei Mountain?"
"Oh? Something serious? Has someone died?"
"There are probably at least dozens of lives lost, but that's not the scariest part."
"Is there something even more frightening? Could it be that some powerful martial arts master has died?"
"Yes, and not just one, probably at least four, but the strange thing is that only one person's identity is confirmed, and that is none other than the delicate beauty Han Miaohua on the list of beauties."
"Wow! Ruthless! The perpetrator is really vicious. What about the remaining three people? Why can't their identities be confirmed? They couldn't have been beaten to a pulp, could they?"
"Ah, clever."
"Huh?! Is it really that fierce? Just which evil star is it?"
"This person suddenly appeared out of nowhere a month ago. He was on the Hidden Dragon Ranking before, and then he jumped to the Earth Ranking half a month ago. Now he's firmly at the top."
"Could it be the Mountain-Crushing God's Hand?"
Amidst the clamor and chatter inside the shop, a man and two women walked in from outside. The man in the lead was dressed in a black outfit, with a tabby cat perched on his shoulder. His female companions wore veils, but their alluring beauty could not be concealed.
"Young master, listen to those two storytellers talking about you," Hong Yingniang said softly with a smile.
"What should we eat?" That was all Lin Zhuo cared about.
He chose a corner seat in the main hall, far from the storytelling area, where everyone was focused on their meal. Lin Zhuo told the waiter to just bring the food and cook extra fish. He also took out a small ingot of silver to pay the bill first, promising to settle the account after the meal, with any overpayment refunded and any underpayment collected.
During meals, Hong Yingniang would always secretly serve food to Lin Zhuo, while Cui Xiang would watch Jin Xiaohu eat fish.
Sitting at the table next to them were two men, one dressed in a scholar's robe, with white hair and wrinkled skin, and the other in a Bagua robe, in his prime. The fortune teller in the Bagua robe pleaded earnestly, "Please, venerable immortal, impart your wondrous methods, so that I may also absorb some of your Daoist energy. I do not seek immortality, but only hope to learn some skills so that I may repay your kindness in my next life—even if it means repaying a debt of gratitude in my next life!"
The old scholar raised his cup and pondered, making perfunctory remarks while glancing at the guests at the next table out of the corner of his eye.
In the center of the hall, two storytellers were still discussing the bloodshed in Anzhou City yesterday, the identity of the person killed by the Mountain-Crushing God, and whether this person, who acted so ruthlessly, should remain on the Earth List or be included in the Black List.
The guests were completely unaware that the very person they were so astonished by was sitting right there in the room.
Lin Zhuo buried his head in his food and ate heartily. Hong Yingniang, who was standing nearby, brought him some tea and made him a bowl of butter tea. The wonderful aroma of the golden butter filled the air, attracting the attention of the diners. Passersby on the street outside were also drawn in by the fragrance.
The old scholar stared at the golden jar from which Hong Yingniang was taking ghee, his eyes twitching slightly.
"It smells wonderful, it's truly exquisite." Even the fortune teller who was pleading with him couldn't help but exclaim.
"Of course it's a wonderful product," Mo Weiren said coldly. "This ghee is a precious substance that costs dozens of lives every year. In the past, it was exclusively supplied to the Dharma King, but the current Dharma King, out of consideration for his subordinates, ordered many monks to make some to distribute to the various heavenly kings and the great masters who have made great contributions."
"The old sage knows everything!"
"Hehehe, this jar for storing ghee is only found in the Bright Palace. Every year, the Dharma King's disciples distribute ghee to us from this jar."
"Old... immortal?" The fortune teller was a little scared.
Lin Zhuo didn't look up, swallowed a mouthful of food, and said in a low voice, "Old pig, eat a few more bites of food and wine while you can, because you won't be able to eat them when you get to the Yellow Springs."
"These kids these days are really arrogant and ignorant." Mo Weiren picked up his wine glass, flicked it lightly, and the porcelain glass shot out as a white streak, heading straight for Lin Zhuo's head.
Suddenly—a hidden weapon pierced the air, a strong wind howled, and the whistling sound shattered the window frame.
The rapidly flying wine glass approached Lin Zhuo within three feet of him, then immediately slowed down, rapidly spinning into a blurry white ball before slowly drifting down, its rim facing upwards, and stopping steadily three inches in front of Lin Zhuo.
The wine in the glass had completely frozen into ice, radiating cold air onto the wooden table and forming a large puddle of cold water.
Normal breathing techniques can hardly achieve this level unless one's true essence is integrated with the energy of heaven and earth.
Hong Yingniang pulled Cui Xiang up and left. Jin Xiaohu licked his lips and jumped aside, not intending to participate in the battle.
Lin Zhuo put down his chopsticks, looked at the leftover food on the table, then looked up at Mo Weiren and said, "Let's go, pick a burial place you like. If you dawdle any longer, my food will get cold."
Mo Weiren laughed in anger.
Produce