Chapter 117: A Muddy Soup

Chen Jin paused after hearing what Li Zheng had to say, his expression quickly shifting into a smile. "May I ask where you discovered the Daoist arts left behind by Master Ge Hong?"

Because Li Zheng had claimed to be a successor of Ge Hong, Chen Jin adjusted his form of address accordingly. Since Li Zheng described himself as a distant descendant in the lineage, it implied this was not a direct master-to-disciple inheritance passed down through generations, but rather something discovered in some remote mountain valley, such as an abandoned cave or an ancient stone inscription.

Every immortal figure enjoyed traveling the world, leaving their name on famous mountains and great rivers, or even opening up temporary dwellings to leave behind bits of their legacy, whether it be treasures or alchemical pills. In short, they liked to leave some benefits for those who came after them, almost like paying rent for their stay in these majestic locations.

Li Zheng laughed, "This humble Daoist was once among the people who migrated to Jiaozhi. I obtained this inheritance from a nameless mountain in Jiaozhi, along with some alchemical pills left by the Immortal Ge Hong. That I have achieved my current level of cultivation is entirely due to the Immortal's grace. Ten years ago, when I returned from Jiaozhi to the Central Plains, I went to pay my respects at the Immortal Ge Hong's final resting place. Regrettably, I did not meet any of his true successors. To meet a fellow practitioner like you today is truly a great honor."

Li Zheng explained the origins of his path. Chen Jin was well-versed in the biography of Ge Hong. As for Jiaozhi, that region currently corresponded to the northern part of the province of Vietnam (in this world, Vietnam had been incorporated into the Chinese territory). Historically, there were rumors that Ge Hong had intended to go to Jiaozhi, though historical records were unclear on whether he actually did. However, since he was an immortal figure, traveling to Jiaozhi would have been nothing more than a half-day flight across the sky, so it was entirely possible that Li Zheng was indeed a distant successor of Ge Hong.

"In that case, I must shamelessly call you Junior Brother," Chen Jin said with a bow and a laugh. His smile did not reach his eyes; it was a superficial expression that made the atmosphere feel rather awkward.

"Then this humble Daoist shall acknowledge you as Senior Brother," Li Zheng replied with a smile as well, though his appeared quite sincere, as if he truly regarded Chen Jin as a fellow disciple.

Having established this connection, the two now had more reasons to cooperate. They exchanged a few more polite words, though neither asked the other to present genuine proof of identity, as both men were clearly harboring their own secrets. Li Zheng was remarkably smooth in his speech, and Chen Jin was no less skilled, so their conversation flowed without much friction, making it seem as if they were genuinely enjoying a pleasant exchange between fellow disciples.

After chatting for half an hour, Li Zheng found an excuse to escape the room and Chen Jin's "enthusiastic" company. The moment Li Zheng left, the smile on Chen Jin's face vanished instantly, replaced by cold disdain. Similarly, once Li Zheng closed the door behind him, his own face turned icy. Neither had treated the other with any sincerity; it was impossible for them to do so, given that neither was a particularly good person.

***

Chen Jin did not fully trust Li Zheng's words. After all, Chen Jin was feeding him falsehoods himself, so he could hardly guarantee that others were not doing the same to him.

He silently returned to his bed to meditate, setting aside his thoughts. He intended to condense his Five-Qi True Essence in this era to reach the Spirit-Settling Realm. Thus, he needed to accumulate as much Primordial Qi as possible and nourish his spirit to prepare for the final condensation.

...

Night passed, and the rooster crowed to herald the dawn. Chen Jin did not actually need the rooster to know it was morning; he possessed an internal sense of time that was more precise than a modern electronic watch.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

Three knocks sounded at the door; it was the maid.

"Young Master, I have brought your breakfast," she said from outside.

"Come in," Chen Jin replied.

"Yes."

The maid pushed the door open, carrying a food box containing various breakfast items into the room.

"What are we having today?" Chen Jin asked casually.

"The same as yesterday, Young Master," the maid replied while setting the breakfast on the table.

"Porridge again? Never mind, you eat it yourself. I’m going out to eat today." Chen Jin glanced at the table, swept his long sleeves, and walked straight out the door. Even if the maid had wanted to stop him, it would have been too late.

Chen Jin’s speed was far beyond what a maid could match. Within a few blinks of an eye, he had vanished from her sight. She couldn't even catch up; all she saw was a flicker of his garment before he was completely gone.

...

Chen Jin gently twitched the muscles in his face, making a subtle but effective change to his appearance.

After the alteration, even those most familiar with him would only feel that he resembled the original person, unable to definitively claim he was Zhang Junbao. However, this change was merely a manipulation of his facial muscles and not a fundamental physical reconstruction, so it could only be maintained for an hour before his features would revert to their original state.

Of course, Chen Jin could have cast an illusion to make everyone think he was not Zhang Junbao, but such illusions were ineffective against those who knew him well, and there were several experts in this town capable of seeing through them. Therefore, changing his facial muscles was the safer choice.

The town of Liyuan was not quiet in the early morning. Farmers and laborers were already heading out to work, and many breakfast stalls had been set up along the streets. Following the scent of food, Chen Jin found a street lined with stalls.

He specifically sought out the busiest ones. He wasn't just here to eat; he wanted to gather information about the Zhang family. After all, the events of the previous night had been significant enough that everyone in town must have heard about them.

The joy of the common folk lay in gossiping about the wealthy. The Zhang family was a prominent household in Liyuan, so there was no shortage of people talking about them at these street stalls. When a crowd gathered, people often felt safe in numbers, emboldened to speak without restraint, revealing things they would otherwise keep hidden.

Chen Jin found a four-sided table where three people were sitting and squeezed himself into the empty chair. He called out to the stall owner, "Brother San, one bowl of hot and sour soup and five steamed buns!"

He had addressed the owner as "Brother San" based on what he heard others calling him, and he mimicked the local dialect with ease—it was simple enough.

"Oh, brother, that’s quite an appetite! What kind of work do you do?" the owner asked with a grin.

"Laying bricks, just putting in some hard labor," Chen Jin replied in a fluent, authentic Sichuan dialect.

"Well, you’ve got to eat well then. Here’s your hot and sour soup." The owner ladled a bowl of thick, red, spicy soup and placed it before Chen Jin. This thick soup was precisely why Chen Jin had chosen this stall; he had a fondness for it.